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VOL. I. 










VOM'Mi: I. 

ir/r// j-'KOXiisr/Kc/-: 

"GAZE'lTE" UVIl.niN(iS. ^4 HIGH .VI RKKT. 


^ ^c 



Illustration, Frontispiece. 


Preface, ix 

Memoirs of Poets : — 

1 James M*Alpie, 9 

2 James Maxwell, 14 

3 John Wilson, Bar-Officer in Sheriff Court, 27 

4 Rev. Dr. Boog, Paisley Abbey, 30 

5 Thomas Crichton, 37 

6 William Glassford, 41 

7 Alexander Wilson, 43 

8 John Robertson, 59 

9 Ebenezer Picken, 62 

10 George Macindoe, 69 

11 Thomas Richmond, M.D., 72 

12 Archibald Fyfe, 75 

13 William M*Laren, 78 

14 Alexander Borland, 84 

15 Robert Tannahill, 86 

16 James Scadlock, 96 

17 James Muir, M.D., 102 

18 James Paterson, 107 

19 William Livingston, 112 

20 James King, 1 14 

21 Duncan Henderson, 121 

22 John Paterson, 127 

23 Thomas Bouskil I, 129 

24 John King 134 

25 William Chalmers, 142 

26 James Goldie, 146 

27 R. A. Smith, 150 

28 John Wilson (Christopher North), 158 

29 John Reid, 175 

30 John Mitchell, 176 

31 David Websler, l8l 

32 Alexander Cirlile, 1S9 

33 WiHiam Craig, M.D., I94 

34 Thomas dimming, 197 

35 Alexander Tail - 198 

30 Rev. W. M. Wade, 207 

37 AlenandcT Gitmour, 109 

38 J. Watt 211 

39 John Stevenson, aia 

40 Isabeila Niromo, 215 

41 John Millar 217 

42 Andrew Aird, 223 

43 John Wilson, 126 

44 WiUiiiD) TajloT, 230 

45 Gavin Daliiel, 233 

46 Thomas KirkUnd, J3j 

47 Panegyric on the Town of Paisley (Anonymous), 338 

48 Mailhew Smith ^ti 

49 Juhn M'Gregor 25, 

50 RoLitrt llciidr)', «- 

51 James Yool jj^ 

52 William Finlay, 25- 

53 Thomas Lyie j^ 

54 Alexander Borland, 2-1 

55 William Anderson, 2jO 

56 William Stewart, , 279 

57 David Rorrison aS- 

58 Rev. Charles Mushall [',[„, 291 

59 Willinin Molhcrwell , j^^ 

60 John Sim, M.D., 30- 

61 JohnGoldie, !"!!"!!!!!!!" 311 

62 riiiliji A Kiiniiay ,,, 

'3 >•>" » ::::::::::::::::::::::zU 

64 William Kennedy, „. 

65 Thomas Kibble Her*'ey, ,,j 

66 Alejumder M'Gilvrny, ,., 

67 Alexander Drown, , 

68 J. R. Adam, 'T, 

6<j PelcrUibb, Z"'''''."'.Z ui 


70 Alexander Colquhoun, 349 

71 Tboims Spreul, 354 

72 Anna Maria Maxwell, 357 

73 J. B.. 361 

74 Andrew Leiper, 364 

75 William Brunton, 367 

76 William M*Nicol, 369 

77 James Whitehill, 374 

78 John Carswell, 376 

79 William Cross, 379 

So William Alexander, 384 

St Robert Stewart, 389 

82 Rev. Alexander Rennison, 392 

83 William M*Oscar, 395 

84 James Patrick, 398 

S5 John Montgomery Bell, 402 

86 William Crawford, 404 

87 Charles Fleming, 406 

S8 David Picken, 411 

89 Andrew Park, 414 

90 John Andrews, 418 

91 David Gilmour, 423 

92 John Barr, 427 

93 Andrew B. Picken, 430 

94 Robert M* Asian, 434 

95 W. C. Cameron, 436 

96 John Black, 437 

97 Thomas Dick, 438 

98 NV. Macnaughtan, 441 

99 K. Millar, Jun., 443 

100 Rev, Peter Thomson, 445 

loi John M*Intyre, 449 

102 Rol>ert Clark, 452 

103 John Fraser, 455 

104 John Lorimer, 460 

105 Daniel Richmond, M. D. , 47 1 

106 Robert Skimming, 476 

107 Robert King, 481 

Index, 489 


'THE renown of the town of Paisley, arising from the 
unusual number of its inhabitants that have been 
endowed with rare gifts in the composing of poetry, is 
wide -spread. This intellectual acquirement began to 
appear more particularly during the latter portion of the last 
century, when Robert Bums, our illustrious National Bard, 
was fascinating every one with his transcendant poetical 
powers. His marvellous genius in poesy has exercised its 
spell, I may safely state, in a greater degree upon the 
people of Paisley than on those of any other town. In 
addition to the influence of the unequalled poetry of Burns, 
I might refer to the beauty of the situation of the town, 
with its interesting history of so great antiquity, and to the 
fair and romantic environs of Gleniffer Braes and Glens 
which aflbrd varied and beautiful views, equal to any in 
Scotland, as contributories, along with the natural and 
acquired intelligence of its inhabitants, to the inspiration of 
poetical imagination and descriptive power. The poetic 
fervour thus so long, fully, and enthusiastically manifested 
by many of the inhabitants of Paisley, continues unabated 
down to the present day. These circumstances have given 
rise to the exaggerated statements of humorists, that every 
fifth person in Paisley is a poet; and in corroboration of 
this statement, the story is frequently told of a public dinner 


in Paisley, at which a hundred gentlemen were present, thai 
on the toast of the ** Poets of Paisley " being proposed, 
ninety-nine stood up in response. Mothen^'ell, himself one 
of the fraternity, has described Paisley as a ** nest of singing 

My aim in tliis work has been to gather together the 
names of those who have distinguished themselves in 
Paisley by their contributions to poetic literature, to give 
brief biographical notices of them, and to exhibit a few 
select specimens of their poetical compositions. I generally 
leave the reader to form his own opinion of the merits of 
the various pieces ; but it should always be kept steadily 
and prominently in view, that every word and line of these 
numerous effusions, depicting in musical language our hills, 
glens, water-falls, linns, heathery braes, flowery dales, and 
warbling birds, or narrating the heroic deeds and achieve- 
ments of our people, the loves of their brave sons and 
beautiful daughters, their joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, 
triumphs and failures, and all their musings on this many- 
sided world of ours, have only been put into song after 
much reading, close observation, great thoughtfulness, and 
keen mental application. 

The poets I have taken notice of in these pages were 
either natives of Paisley or residenters in our town for some 
considerable time, who thereby became townsmen. 

When I commenced, as a labour of love, the penning of 
these pages, I expected that my subject-matter wculd have 
been embraced in one volume of ordinary size; but the 
number of Paisley poets is so great — extending to upwards 



of 220 — that justice to my subject 
volume a necessity. 

I have only further to add that I 
to all those who have responded so 
for information regarding many of 
forth in these volumes. It would 
all, and invidious to name a few. 
and all lovers of our good town, I 
literary skill on the part of Paisle/s 

has rendered a second 

am exceedingly grateful 
cordially to my requests 
the doubtful points set 
be impossible to name 
To all lovers of verse, 
commit these proofs of 
Sons of Song. 


Underwood Park, 
Paisley, Narvember^ i8Sg. 



JAMES M'ALPIE, the first Poet belonging to Paisley of 
whom I have found any record, held the high position of sheriff- 
clerk, and sometimes acted as sheriflf-substitute of Renfrew- 
shire, at the end of the seventeenth and beginning of the 
eighteenth centuries. In the roll of the inhabitants of Paisley, 
taken in 1695, in connection with thepoll tax, then to be raised, 
James M*Alpie is designated ** wrytter clerk to the Regalitie 
of Paisley." The late William Motherwell, who was sheriff- 
clerk depute in Paisley, published, in 1828, a small volume 
of James M*Alpie*s poetry, the manuscript of which he found 
in a neglected bundle of old records in the sheriff-clerk's 
office at Paisley. Motherwell states : " They were written 
on loose scraps of paper, and, in some instances, on the 
back of drafts of official documents." The number of these 
pieces published by Mr. Motherwell is twenty-one. They are 
as follows : — " Inscription on the stone erected to the me- 
mory of James Algie and John Park ; Song," What means this 
Presbyterian rage ; " " O yes, O yes, O yes, consider well ; " 
" Answer to scurrillous veldes against the Magestrates and 
Schoolmaester of Pasley ; " " Instade of rendering thanks to 
God ; " "A mournful sonnet be a Lover to his mistress ; " 
answer — " Ane letter from a Lover to his Mrs. ; " " Me seed 
some lines dropt from phanatick pen ; " "I am obliged 
against my will ; " " Introduction against Popery ; " " Ane 
dialog betwixt Simson and Lovie ; " " Right Reverend Sir, 
ye are to blame ; " " Her Majesty's answer to the Scots 
young women's address ; " " Whoe'er ye are that wrote the 



letter ; " " Qreat Good and Just, where is our lot now cast ; " 
" To a Doctor ; " " Acrostick ; " " Claud Alexander; " " On 
the Elders ; " " Reproof and Advice to the Scots." 

It will be observed that James M'Alpie is the author of 
the well-known inscription on the stone, now in the Martyrs' 
Church burying-ground, erected to the memory of James 
Algie and John Park, commencing — 

"Stay, passenger, as thou goeth by, 
And take ane look of qr. they do lye. " 

Mr. Motherwell states that M'Alpie's poems are chiefly of 
a local or political nature. The allusions in the first are too 
obsaire and insignificant to be now understood ; and the 
interest of the other has faded with the memory of the events 
in which they originated. He appears to have been a firm 
and consistent Jacobite. Some Unes he has written possess 
considerable vigour; others are not devoid of humour, 
though, it must be confessed, they smack of a coarseness 
scarcely acceptable to the delicate ears of the nineteenth 

One of the pieces from the pen of Mr. M'Alpie, given in 
Mr, Motherwell's publication, is entitled, " Instead of 
rendering thanks to God." It consists of fifteen verses. 
The following are the first six : — 

Insteade of rend'ring thanks to God 

For our late vicloric, 
They turned for to rouse the mob 

Against old Bcbsic 
The nature of a Thanksgiving 

It seems they quite forgot ; 
Yes, it's noe wonder it sae be 

Because they use it not. 
Those Pharisees, they do profess 

Great .SL'ri]>tuia1ints to be, 
Yet they're hot gucsscrs at the best, 

As wc all clearly sic. 


Yet they with confidence aver, 

And say with one accord, 
Befor the congregation all. 

That thus sayes the Lord. 

The nature of ane fast declair 

What thanksgiving should be, 
Distinguished in the sacred word, 

As all may clearly sie. 

For even in fasts we are not called 

Our souls for to afflict. 
Nor yet our bodies to bow down 

For sins that they commit. 

The late Mr. William Hector, ^ who also filled the posi- 

^ Mr. Hector's father, of the same name, was tenant in the Saracen's 
Head Inn, Paisley, from Whitsunday, 1805, till his death on 24th 
August, 181 7. Mr. Hector was bom in 1802, and received his education 
at the town's English School and the Grammar School. At the age of 
twelve years he commenced his apprenticeship in the office of the town- 
clerk (Mr. Gibson), where he remained nine years. Afterwards he went 
to Edinburgh for a year, to complete his legal studies. When only 
twenty-two years of age he began business in Pollokshaws, and, while 
there, received the appointment of Procurator-Fiscal, and Clerk to the 
Heritors and Parochial Board. Mr. Hector took an active part in the 
public affairs of the burgh, and was elected Provost in 1844, and it was 
through his energy that the Public Library, Industrial Schools, and other 
Institutions were greatly improved. In 1865 Mr. Hector was political 
a^ent for Captain Speirs of Elderslie, when he succeeded in defeating 
Su" Michael Shaw Stewart in the contest for the representation of the 
County of Renfrew. He was, in 1872, rewarded for his, political 
services by receiving the appointment of Sheriff-Clerk for Renfrewshire. 
It was while holding this position that, in searching the Record Room, 
he brought to light so many antiquarian matters connected with the 
county. These first appeared in the Paisley and Renfreiushirc Gazette 
newspaper, and were afterwards collected and published in two volumes, 
under the title of ** Selections from the Judicial Records of Renfrew- 
shire." They exhibit, in a very striking manner, Mr. Hector's 
perseverance, energy, and ability. Besides this great work, he was 
also the author of the ** History of Pollockshaws United Presbyterian 
Congregation," 1869 ; ** Scripture Gleanings," first and second series, 
1877 and i878 ; " Manual of Politeness and Good Manners," 1877 ; 
"Statutory Forms for Parliamentary Elections in Scotland," 1878; 
" Memorandum on Jury Lists in Counties," 1878 ; ** Fiars Courts ; " 
" Vanduara, or Odds and Ends," 1880. In 1874, Mr. Hector, along with 
Mr. George Masson, was mainly instrumental in resuscitating the Paisley 
Bums Club, which had been in abeyance for about 38 years. Mr. Hector 
died at his home on 24th September, 1880, aged seventy-nine years. 


tion of sherifT- clerk depute for some time at Paisley, like 
Mr. Motherwell, diligently examined the documents in the 
Record Room, and gave the result of his able research in 
two volumes, under the title of the " Judicial Records of 
Renfrewshire." Mr. Hector discovered in the Record Room, 
wrapped up in the copy of a summons, a Jacobite song, 
which, no doubt, was from the pen of Mr. M'Alpie, as was 
found by comparing the handwriting with the Court Records 
written by Mr. M'Alpie, The manuscript of this genuine 
Jacobite song was found by Mr, Hector among a mass 
of miscellaneous papers referring to the period between 
the flight of King James VII., in 1688, and the accession 
of King George II. This Jacobite song consists of nine- 
teen verses. The following are the first seven : — 
He is o'er Ihe hills and hr awa, 
Ayont the seas and dread o' law. 
And Iho' his back tie at the wa'. 
Here's a health lo him that's far awa'. 
I hope he will come hame again, 
To bruick the thing that is his ain ; 
And till that happy day shall da', 
We'll drink his health that's fer awa'. 
And when he's settled on his throne. 
Then Whiggs and treason will be gone, 
And all Iriens be l>aith bijth and bra', 
When he is come hame that's Tar awa'. 
His ancient kingdom shall rejoice, 
With trumpets, fairies, and hoboys ; 
And they sal crye, baith great and sma'. 
Long live the lad that's far awa'. 
Then let us all, wi' heart and hand, 
Joyne solemnly into a band 
To send to him a formal ca', 
That lad that's been sae loiig awa'. 


Our peers shall sit nae mair by choyce, 
But each ane hae his ain free voyce, 
And ilk of them get their richts a*, 
When he comes hame that's far awa*. 

When he is settled at Whiteha', 
The deil a man amang them a' 
But who shall ban and curse that law 
That kept the King sae lang awa'. 

Mr Motherwell says : — " Of James M*Alpie or M* Alpine, 
for I find his name written both ways, I regret that it is not 
in my power to communicate anything of interest. The date 
of his birth or of his death, I have not been able to 



JAMES MAXWELL, " Poet in Paisley," as he invariably 
epresented himself in his many publications, was the most 
prolific and inveterate rhymster that Paisley, or, I believe, 
any other place, ever possessed. He was born at Auchen- 
back, in the neighbourhood of Pollock House, parish of 
Meams, on 9th May, 1720. ^ Among his many poetical 
pamphlets is an autobiography of himself, entitled, " A brief 
Narrative, or some remarks on the Life of James Maxwell, 
poet in Paisley, written by himself at the beginning of his 
entering the seventy-sixth year of his age. Paisley : printed 
by John Neilson, 1795." ^^ learn from this doggerel 
rhyming autobiography that at the age of twenty he went to 
England with a hardware pack, but not being successful he 
learned the weaving trade, at which he remained twenty 
years. But as trade became much depressed, he took a 
situation as clerk to a tradesman, and, when the latter gave up 
business, he received the appointment of usher to a school. 
In consequence of a relation dying in Jamaica, he came to 
Paisley, and his journey on foot was performed at the rate 
of 200 miles a week. His wife, however, declined to ac- 
company him to Scotland, and went to London, where one 
of their sons was in business. Sometime afterwards she died 
there. When he reached Paisley he found that all his 
relatives and acquaintances were dead, and he therefore 
went back to England. He shortly afterwards returned to 
Paisley, and " set up a school." But he did not long remain 
in this position, for he says — 

" At last, into the Highlands I was called. 
And for a parish schoolmaster install'd, 

^ Paisley Magazine, p. 68a 


And session-clerk ; but ah ! it was obscure 
For most of my employers were but poor. 
A salary was promised me by law, 
Upon the heritors the same to draw ; 
But most of them were very far from home, 
Then on their factors I was fain to come. 
But all to little purpose ; most of them, 
By subterfuge, evaded still my claim. " 

He remained in South Knapdale — for that was the name 
of the parish — four and a half years, but as the salary 
promised to him was not well paid, he returned to Paisley 
in 1782. In the following year trade was bad, and he was 
by poverty reduced to great distress. Mr. Maxwell says — 

" Tho' I had Btill the gift of poetry, 
Of what advantage was it then to me. 
When not a penny I could then produce 
To buy materials proper for my use ? 
Now, was I set to labour, breaking stones 
For highway use, with sore and crippled bones ; 
Some months I laboured at that sore employ, 
"Which filled my mind with sorrow and annoy ; 
Five shillings by the week was all my pay. 
For which I laboured hard from day to day." 

He accidentally met on the street, Mr. Maxwell of Castle- 
bead, ^ who gave him five shillings to purchase pamphlets to 
sell them again, which he did successfully along with his 
own publications. Maxwell still further experienced the 
generous kindness of the Laird of Castlehead. 

^ James Maxwell of Castlehead, in 1746 feued out, to the west of that 
estate, a number of steadings for building a new town or suburban 
village on, and called it Maxwelton. He also gave ground, with- 
out any charge, for the erection of a schoolhouse thereon, to be 
provided by public subscription, which still remains under the name of 
the Maxwelton School. In the year, 1754, Mr. Maxwell purchased from 
Lord Dundonald, the lands of Riccartsbar. In 1770 he built a mansion- 
house on the Castlehead estate, adjoining the part occupied by the 
Roman camp in ancient times. His first wife was a daughter of John 
Barr, Houston, and his second wife was a daughter of Robert Fulton, 
merdiant in Paisley. 


** Tho* he was old, and had not long to live, 
Yet did he to me often favour give ; 
And when he died he left to me five pound, 
Wherewith I quickly clothed myself all round." 

It appears he some time afterwards confined himself to 
the selling of his own books, for he states — 

** Now after thb, lo ! I succeeded well, 
And far and near I went my books to sell ; 
For now none other but mine own I sold, 
On all beside my customers looked cold. " 

Mr. Maxwell must have been an applicant for one of the 
charities in the gift of the Town Council, for I find, in the 
records of that body of nth October, 1787, "The Council 
have nominated and appointed Mary Hodgert, widow of 
Wm. Allan, weaver in Paisley ; Robert Cochran, in Bum 
Row ; Robert Henderson, son of Widow Henderson, in 
Townhead ; and James Maxwell, poet in Paisley, to succeed 
to the interest of James Maxwell of Castlehead*s donation 
in the Town's hands, and appoint their interest to be paid 
to them yearly, and the first payment to be made on the 5th 
December next." 

James Maxwell died either at the end of March or the be- 
ginning of April, 1800. I learn from the Town Council 
records of 4th April, 1800, that that body "appointed Jean 
Park, residenter in Paisley, to be a pensioner in place of 
James Maxwell, late poet, now deceased." 

" James Maxwell's house was," says Motherwell, " at the 
west part of Paisley — a miserable hovel — that land now 
tenanted by Master Bernard Kerr, chimney-sweep, and his 
sooty legions. It goes by the name, we believe, of the 
Roperie Close, others style it Little Hell. It assuredly is 
the Alsatia of Paisley. In height Maxwell stood, we should 
rather say stooped, 5 feet 7 inches. He had a thin, sharp, 
sallow countenance, thoughtful but somewhat gumptionless 


look. He always went at a kind of slotting pace, and 
looked shy and fearful. 

" His effects, which consisted entirely of copies of his own 
works, were sold by Robert Smith, bookseller and auctioneer 
in this town, and, according to his information, there were 
some two cart loads of them. The proceeds were applied 
to defray his funeral expenses." ^ 

So £Eir as I have been able to discover, the following is a 
list of the numerous books and pamphlets in verse produced 
by this most extraordinary rhymer, during a period of forty 
years ; and I may mention that I have a copy of each of 

" Divine Miscellanies ; or, Sacred Poems." 324 pages, i2mo. Bir- 
mingham, 1756. 

*• Hymns and Spiritual Songs, adapted to various Cases, i. Of Un- 
regenerated Sinners. 2. Of those who are convinced. 3. Of True 
Believers." i2mo. London, 1759. 

" A new version of the whole Book of Psalms in metre ; to which is 
added a Supplement of Divine Hymns or Scripture Songs, all fitted to 
the coomion Psalm tones, and adapted to the present state of the 
Christian Church. There is also prefixed * An Humble Address to all 
the Ministers of the Church of Scotland relative to this undertaking.*" 
By James Maxwell, S.D.P. Glagow : printed by W. Smith, for the 
author. i2mo. 1773. The letters S. D. P. means Student of Divine 
Poetry. 430 pages. 

" A Descriptive Poem on his Grace the Duke of Argyll's noble Palace 
at Imreraiy in 1777 ; to which is added an Appendix, with further 
Observations taken at a second visit." Glasgow : printed by W. Smith, 
and sold by the author, 4to. 1777. 

•* The Contrast ; or. Poverty and Riches. A moral Essay, by James 
Maxwell, author of the new Version of the Psalms, &c. ; to which is 
added a Recent and True Narrative, by a Friend. The whole humbly 
dedicated to His Grace the Duke of Argyll. To which is also added. 
The Gentleman Delineated ; or, A Brief Description of that Character ; 
and also proper ingredients to make a Deist or Freethinker." Glasgow : 
printed for the author. 8vo. 1 784. 

•* Another emment display of the Wonders of Divine Providence 
exemplified in the History of Queen Esther ; or, A Poetical Paraphrase 
on the whole Book of Esther ; to which is added The Virtuous 
Woman, or a Paraphrase on Proverbs xxxi. 10, 10, 31. To which is 
also added The Infidel and Christian Schemes compared, in blank verse." 
By James Maxwell, author of the New Version of the Psalms, &c. 
Glasgow : printed for the author. 1784. 

^ William Motherwell in the Paisley Magazine, p. 682. 


"A Paiaphrase on the Epistle of St. James, together with the viii. 
and ix. Chapters of the Epislle to the Hebrews, wherein the connection 
between Faith and Practice is clearly pointed out, and (he Christian 
conduct fairly delineated and explained ; to which is added a Hymn on 
the death of ChrisL Occasioned by reading a. sermon of Dr. Blair's on 
that subject." By James Mmwell, poet in Paisley. Paisley : printed 
by John Nolson for the author. 1 7S5. 

" Paisley. A Poem. Being a General Description of the Town and 
Places adjacent, with the Manners and Character of the Inhabitants." 
By James Maxwell, author of the New Version of the Psalms, &c. 
Paisley ; printed by John Neiison for the author. 1785. Of this poem, 
he states. In testimony of the highest esteem for the Honourable the 
Magistrates, Treasurer, and the worthy Members of the Town Council ; 
for Ihc Ministeis. Manufacturers, Mechanics, and all the Inhabitants of 
Paisley ; and of the warmest wishes for the prosperity of the Town, the 
following poem is most respectfully inscribed to ail ranks in it by their 
fellow-ciliieo and very humble servant — James Maxwell. 

" The Wonder of Wonders ; or. The Cotton Manufacture. A Poem. 
Being a general account of the rapid prt^ess of that branch and others, 
at the new Town of Johnstone ; with a parlicular description of that 
town and places adjacenL" By James Maxwell, author of the New 
Version of the Psalms, &c. Paisley : printed for the author by John 
Neilaon. 1785, 

"A Welcome Home and Birthday Poem for the Right Honourable 
George Earl of Glasgow; to which is added a Song," By James 
Maxwell, poet in Paisley. Paisley : printed by John Neiison for the 
Author. 1786. 

"The Seasons considered as representing the different Periods of 
Man's Life, as Evidence of the Power, Wisdom, and Goodness of God, 
and as motives to incite to Piety and Devotion." By James Maxwell, 
poet in Paisley. Paisley : printed by John Neiison for the author. 
17S6. This pamphlet contains 10 pages 1 and itsiabject isSpiins. In 
his Pre^ce, the author, after staling (he analc^ which the Seasons 
bear to the diilerent stages of man's life, and his intention to treat of 
these in their order so as to bear a religious application, observes, " it 
was thought best to publish them scjiarately, and if this shall be ap- 
proved of, as tending to the general good of mankind, the other Seasons 
will be published in course." 

Accordingly in the same year, and under the same title, 
appears another poetical pamphlet, the subject of which is 
"Summer," also consisting of 20 pages. 

In the year following, another pamphlet of the same size, 
and with the same general title, was published, "which 
treateth of Autumn, or Harvest," and is of a like number 
of pages. 

Again in this last mentioned year, under the same general 


title, is published a fourth poetical pamphlet, the subject of 
which is ** Winter," extending likewise to 20 pages. Each 
of these poems on the Seasons concludes with a hymn. 

" Pabley Dispensary. A Poem. To Bailie Andrew Biown, Preses, 
with the rest of the managers ; to Dr. Farquharson, ph3rsician ; Messrs. 
John White, Robert Thjme, and David Wardrop, surgeons ; and to the 
first projectors and generous contributors to this excellent and useful in- 
stitution, the following poem is most respectfully inscribed by their 
humble servant — James MaxwelL " Paisley : printed for and Bold by the 
author. 1 786. 

•* Happiness. A moral Essay shewing the Vain Pursuits of Mankind 
after Happiness in every stage of Life , with the Disappointments at- 
tending those that expect true Happiness any other way than in a 
Virtuous and Religious Life." By James Maxwell, Poet in Paisley. 
Paisley : printed by John Neilson for the author. 1 786. 

•* The Mercies of God thankfully Recorded. Occasioned by the kind 
interposition of Divine Providence on the miraculous preservation of the 
author hereof, when he wandered a whole night on Colmonel Moor, in 
the most imminent danger, faint and destitute, between the 3rd and 4th 
October, 1785." Paisley : printed for and sold by the author. 1786. 

** Divine Miscellanies ; or, Sacred Poems. In Two Parts. Part L 
Sacred to Devotion and Piety ; consisting of Hymns and Divine 
Meditations upon various Subjects and Occasions, &c. Part H. Sacred 
to Practical Virtue and Holiness ; consisting of Three Large Epistles. 
ITie Second £dition corrected, enlarged, and greatly improved." 
Paisley : printed by John Neilson for the author. Small 8vo. 1787. 

" The Great Canal ; or, The Forth and Clyde Navigation. A Poem 
descriptive of that Useful and Extensive Undertaking, with pertinent 
remarks and observations thereon, and on the Country adjacent ; from 
an actoal survey." By James Maxwell, poet in Paisley. Paisley : 
printed for the author by J. Neilson. i2mo. 1788. 

** On the Reformation of Manners. A moral Essay. Occasioned by 
the late Opening of Sunday Schools in Paisley." By James Maxwell, 
poet in Paisley. Paisley : printed by John Neilson for the author. 
i2mo. 1788. 

** Five Curious Anecdotes ; to which is added. On Fashions. A 
moral Elssay. " By James Maxwell , poet in Paisley. Paisley : printed 
by J. Nelson, and sold by the Author. 8vo. 1 788. 

" The King's Indisposition. A Poem, to which is added a Hymn 
for his recovery. By James Maxwell, Poet in Paisley. Paisley : 
printed by J. Neilson, for the author. 1788. 

" The King's Health ; The Countess of Glasgow ; Wonderful Things 
in and about London, &c." Paisley, 1789. 

** Humble Congratulations to the Royal Family on the King's Happy 
Recovery. Likewise to his Loyal Subjects of all ranks on the happy 
occasion. " By James Maxwell , poet in Paisley. Paisley : printed by 
J. Neilson, and sold by the author. 8vo. 1789. 

" Four Poetical Dialogues, viz. : — Between Contentment and Avarice ; 
between Truth and Falsehood ; between a Father and his Son ; and. 


between a Mother and her Daughter." By James Maxwell, poet in 
Paisley. Paisley : printed by J. Neilson, and sold by the author. 


**The Water of Stinchar. A Poem descriptive of that charming, 
limpid stream, and places adjacent, especially tne Parish of Barr, in the 
Shire of Ayr." By James RIaxwell, poet in Paisley. Paisley : printed 
by J. Neilson, and sold by the author. 1789. 

" The Divine Origin of Poetry Asserted and Proved ; The Abuse ol 
it Reproved ; and, Poetasters Threatened. To which is added, A 
Meditation on May ; or. The Brief History of a Modem Poet. Two 
moral Essays." By James Maxwell, poet in Paisley. Paisley: printed 
by J. Neilson for the author. 8vo. 1 790. 

** A Poem on the Manufactory of Paper, setting forth the great utility 
thereof, and the benefit derived therefrom to all Mankind by this noble 
Invention." i2mo. Glasgow, 1790. 

" The Dying Miser's last Speech and Behaviour at Death ; together 
with his Bunal; Conducted by his Spendthrift Son. Being a friendly 
Warning to Mankind not to set their affections on things below ; to 
which is added, A short Sermon on the Vanity of Life. By an un- 
known hand ; now versified by James Maxwell, poet in Paisley, with 
a serious thought, on May 20, 1790, being the author's birthday. 8vo. 
Glasgow : printed for the author. 1 790. 

" The Scheme of Redemption Exhibited ; Errors Detected and Re- 
futed, especially those of Dr. M* — 11 (M*Gill), lately published, and 
now under Review of this Church." By a layman. i2mo. Printed 
in the year 1790, for J. M., and other Booksellers. 

** A Lamentation for the Declining State of Christianity in Scotland, 
and especially in Town and Shire of Ayr, within the last hundred and 
fifty years ; with a Contrast between the Past and Present Times." By 
James Maxwell, poet in Paisley. Paisley : printed by J. Weir, Book- 
seller, 1 79 1. 

" David and Goliath. A Poem from I. Sam., chap. xvii. ; to which 
is added a Brief Sequel from Chap, xviii.. Sec.** By James Maxwell, 
poet in Paisley. Paisley: printed by J. Neilson. 1791. 

"The Shunamite. A Sacred Essay on II. Kings, Chap, iv., ver. 8, 
&c." By James Maxwell, poet in Paisley. Paisley: printed by J. 
Neilson. 1792. 

** Acrostics and Songs reciprocal between Lovers." By James Max- 
well, poet in Paisley. N.B. — The same author makes acrostics and 
songs, or any other uoetical pieces in rhyme or blank verse» on all pro- 
per subjects, natural, moral, or divine, by commission, on reasonable 
terms, for all ranks and degrees of mankind. Paisley : printed by J. 
Neilson. 1792. 

"On the French Revolution. A Moral Essay on the Rights of 
Man." By James Maxwell, poet in Paisley. Paisley: printed by J. 
Neilson. 1 792. 

" A Touch on the Times ; or. Observations on Mr. Paine's Letter to 
Mr. Secretary Dundas, set forth in the following dialo^c. To which 
is added, by way of Appendix, a Paraphrase on the Sixth Chapter of 
Daniel, with Practical Observations, Remarks, &c." By James Max- 
well, poet in Paisley. 1 792. 


•* On the Divine Attributes of God. A Sacred, Philosophical, and 
Poetical Essay." By James Maxwell, poet in Paisley. i2mo. Paisley : 
Printed by John Neilson. 1793. 

** A Brief Narrative ; or, Some Remarks on the Life of James Max- 
well, poet in Paisley, written by himself, at the beginning of his enter- 
ing the seventy-sixth year of his age." i2mo. Paisley : printed by 
John Neilson. 1795. 

" Issachar the Strong Ass Overburdened ; or, The Groans of Bri- 
tannia from the pitt. A poem descriptive of the times." This has a 
quotation from Thomson, beginning — ** As on the sea-beat shore 
Britannia sat," and is introduced with this notice — ** Having given 
commission to J. M. , poet, to give to the world a state of my griefs and 
complaints, so far as he was competent for the task, have now seen and 
approved of his humble attempts, and liberty is granted to publish it 
forthwith. Do recommend the faithful hints therein given to tne serious 
attention of my distressed children. — Britannia." 

" Issachar the Strong Ass Overburdened; or. The Groans of Britannia 
from the pitt A poem descriptive of the times." Part IL By J. M., 
author of the first part. Printed in the present year. 8vo. (No 
date, but probably 1795.) 

"The Atheist's Mistake ; or, The Infidel's Warning Piece. To 
which is added a Serious Thought on the Final Judgement of the 
World." By James Maxwell, poet in Paisley. No date. 

** The Song of Solomon paraphrased in Metre, with Explanatory 
Notes and Practical Observations m Prose. " By James Maxwell, poet 
in Pai^ey. Printed for the author and sold by him. 1796. 

** The Christian Warfare with the Christian Armour. Ephes. vi. 
1218. Being a Serious Address and Exhortation to all Chnstians to 
exert themselves against the Common Enemy of Christianity — namely, 
Infidelity, which is now appearing so barefaced against the Word of 
God." By James Maxwell, poet in Paisley. N.B. — This damnable 
delusion is now started up afresh by Thomas Paine's cursed book, 
called *' The Age of Reason," but more properly ** The Age of Damn- 
able Delusion. 

** War against Heaven openly declared by multitudes in this degene- 
rate age, who say to the Almighty, Depart from us, for we desire not 
the knowledge of Thy ways. A seasonable and serious exhortation for 
all sorts to consider of their ways before it be too late. " By James Max- 
well, poet in Paisley. Paisley : printed for the author. 1796. 

** The Dttiming of the Glorious Latter Days, which seem now ap- 
proaching, set forth in a new Celestial Song." By James Maxwell, 
poet in fi,isley. Price one penny. Paisley : printed for and sold by 
the author. 1797. 

"The Final Downfall of Antichrist, with all his Votaries, &c., &c., 
and the Eternal Establishment of Christ's Kingdom. An Evangelical 
Essay. By James Maxwell, poet in Paisley. Price one penny. 
Paisley : Printed for and sold by the author. 1 797. 

" Observations on the Awful Execution of Thomas Potts, an Irish- 
man, who was executed at the Cross of Paisley, upon Thursday, the 
17th of August, 1797, for housebreaking and robbery. A Memorandum 
Poem." By James Maxwell, poet in Paisley. Price one penny. 


" Od Peace with Huven, then Peace on Earth. A Sacred Maxim 
and Moral Essay." By James Maxwell, poet in Paisley. Printed for 
the author and sold by him. 1 797. 

" The Infidel and Chrisiian Schemes compared. An Elssay in Three 
Farts." By James Maiwell, poet in Paisley. Paisley : printed for and 
sold by the author. 179S. 

"Scripture Hymns on Baptism." By James Maxwell, poet in Pais- 
ley. Paisley : printed for and sold by the author. 1 798. 

"Victory obtained over the French Fleet on the memorable First of 
August, 1798. The Honourable Sir Horatio Nelson met the French 
Fleet at the mouth of the Nile. I'his glorious victory, with a serious 
reflection on the destruction of var, is celebrated here." By James 
Maxwell, poet in Paisley. Paisley : printed for the author. 1798. 

"On Riches and Poverty; or, the Poor Rich Man and the Rich Poor 
Man. These two divide most of the world. Being a faithfiil and 
friendly warning lo mankind, collected from several Scriptures." By 
James Maxwell, poet in Paisley. 1798. 

" On the Prolongation of the Slave Trade. A Moral Essay set forth 
in the following dialopie." By James Maxwell, poet in Paisley, (tia 
place, date, or printers name.) The prolocutors in this diali^e are 
the. House of Lords, the West India Planters, Human Reason, Con- 
science, the Devil, the Word of God, and the Poor Slaves. 

"The Fruitless Fig Tree. A parable of our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
Christ's Paraphrased and Applied." By James Maxwell, poet in Pais- 
ley. Paisley : printed for the author by Neilson & weir. 1799. 

" A Friendly and Monitory Poem for the New Year, i8cx>, being the 
first of the Nineteenth Ccntory." By James Maxwell, poet in Paisley. 
Paisley : printed for the author by Neilson & Weir, Cumberlazid. 1799. 

Besides these. Maxwell published an infinite number of 
things, comprising elegies, pan^yrics, satires, squibs, epi- 
grams, acrostics, &c., &c. Mr. Motherwell {Paislty Maga- 
zine, p. 679) states that old Mr. David Brodie, No. 23 Old 
Sneddon,^ was intimately acquainted with Maxwell, and 

' Mr. Brodie's advcnisemenl of his professional work at school was 
in ihe following terms ;~ 

"ABC, &c., 


His announcement at school that more scholars were wanted was of 
the following cautious tenor ; — " Wanted, a few more scholars, of good 
behaviour, who are able to pay wages, by David Brodie, No. 23 Old 

In 1831, Mr. Brodie published a class-book, extending 10 6^ pages, 
entitled—" A Short Set of Book-keeping by Double Entry, designed as 


that it was a rare occurrence for a week to pass without 
an efiiision from Maxwell's industrious muse. Mr. Brodie 
informed Mr. Motherwell of other published poems of 
Maxwell's, such as — 

"The Hbtory of Joseph, from the Scriptures." 

"A Poem on Mr. Scott, minister of Innerkip, and his horse named 

** A Poem accompanying a Certificate which he had from the Minis- 
ter of Portpatrick." 

" On the Virtues of Castlehead " (Maxwell of Castlehead) a gentle- 
man who left him an annuity of £$ sterling. 

From the foregoing list of poetical effusions produced by 
James Maxwell, poet in Paisley, — an appellation by which 
he gloried in designating himself, — the reader will be able to 
form a pretty correct idea of his feelings and sentiments. 
His poem descriptive of Paisley and places adjacent, con- 
sisting of sixteen pages, is a very fair specimen of his 
poetical talents, and from it I give some extracts : — 

** Of Paisley sing, my Muse, how richly blest ! 
Superior for to all the neighb'ring west, 
Its situation fixt, by Heav'n's decree. 
On easy rising ground, whence men may see 
The neighb'ring country far and near around. 
In temp'rate air and pleasant fertile ground. 

The buildings various, fitted to each trade. 
The spacious streets with good hard metal laid ; 
But should I tell how Paisley is increast 
In fifty years, 'twould seem a flattering jest. 
Few would believe in such a space of years 
That multiplied by twenty it appears. 
Here doth the source of brightest genius dwell ; 
For handycrafi, no place can this excel ; 

an Exercise for those who have made some Progress in the Art. " The 
dedication of this work partook largely of Mr. Brodie's quaint humour 
and business-like sagacity. It ran thus — " To all those who have been, 
now are, or who may hereafter be, my scholars ; and to all others who 
may purchase this book, the same is dedicated by their well-wisher, 
David Brodie." Mr. Brodie died in March, 1835. 


Especially tlie Weaver's ajt and skill 

Do aU beboldeis wilb amazement fill. 

Thousands of weavers here with slciUnl hand 

Send works of wonder into every land. 

These make her trade thnwgliont the world extend 

With admiration to its utmost end ; 

For silk, for linen, muslin, lawns, atid thread, 

Her works do almost ev'ry place acccd. 

At CasClehead, behold, a dome qoite new. 

Which hath o'er al! ihc rest a pleasant view. 

And all the building of the nicest taste. 

With orchard lair and garden near it plac'd, 

O Maiweltown ! behold thy Founder here. 

Who built thy walls when times were most severe. 

Provisions dear, and work exceeding scant. 

And many people sore reduc'd to want ; 

These he employ'd who were in greatest need, 

Artd thus were they supply'd with daily bread. 

For which they ought to pray for Castlehead. 

And thence, a little farther to the west 

Stands Millarstown, near joining to the rest ; 

A stately town of no ignoble fame, 

Tho' from a miser it derived its name. 

But let us now return to the north -cast, 

Where we shall find a wing of noble taste. 

The Sneddon it is call'd. but how it came 

First to obtain that odd ambiguous name 

Is yet to me a secret quite unknown. 

Vet it b now become a noble town. 

But let us now pass o'er the river Carl, 
To see another great and noble part. 
Which lies a little further to the east 
There shall we lind a town of noble taste 
StyI'd the New Town ; and justly so 'tis nam'd. 
And ought to be in lasting records fam'd. 
Yea, here's an Inn built by great Abercom, 
Which doth the town amaiingly adorn. 
'Tis such an Inn as is not to be seen 
Within the Briti^ coasts where 1 have been. 


Not London can its parallel prodnce 
For elegance, for beauty, and for use. 
At little dUtaoce stands tlie &tir GreenUir, 
One oT the neatest Domes I ever saw. 

Thus luUh the Muse endeavour'd 10 describe 
Paisley at large, with ev'ry several tribe. 
Nor most the public buildings be foi^l. 
And first the Abbey Church of oldest note. 
The age iriiereof is very hanl lo tell ; 
Vet all may see il doth for aye excel. 
This iras at lirst a nest o{ Friais and Monks, 
And foolish people filled with cash their trunks. 

The High Church here deserves the first renown, 

Which is an ornament lo all the town. 

The building large, compact, convenient, clear. 

Wherein three thousand may the Gospel hear ; 

The workmanship exceeding clean and neat. 

Well plann'd, and finikh'd to the meanest seat. 

Almost an e<^i]al square Ihe building stands. 

All of hewn Etone, well wrought with curious hands. 

On highest ground 'lis built, with lofty spite, 

Which people far and near see and admire. 

Yet here are several public buildings more 
Which I have never hinted at before. 
As lirst the Prison-hoUM and Judgment -ha It — 
A house which doth for strict attention cbU — 
A building strong and large, with steeple high. 
Which much attracts the curious traveler's eye. 
But were il not for man's d^enerate race, 
There would lie little use for such a place. 

O Paisley ! now consider, since the Lord 
Doth unto thee such ample gifts afford ; 
Blessings of every kind on thee bestow, 
So wealth and honour on thee daily flow ; 
Think, now, what thankfulness should this excite 
In thee. His loving-kindness to requite. 
Since Cod bath dealt so bountiful with thee, 
O what a duteous people should'st thou be." 



The poet was much pleased with the demeanour of the 
writers in Paisley towards himself, and on 21st November, 
1796, he thus expressed his gratitude to them for their kind- 
ness : — 

"'fo the Honourable Society of Writers in Paisley. — Gentlemen: 
I know not how to express my gratitude to you for the generous dona- 
tions I have received from your henevolent hands, — ^so imexpected, un- 
merited, and unsolicited, yet so very seasonable. And what renders it 
the most generous is that no other society in this place nor any fraternity 
have ever considered mc in the like manner, less or more. I am there- 
fore singularly obligated to you, gentlemen of the quilL 

** Your kindness to the poor old bard 
Does all his grateful soul inflame ; 
May heav'n grant to you a large reward. 
And raise you to immortal mme. 

** I wish your silver all were gold, 

And all your brass were silver fine ; 
May heav'nly blessings manifold 
Make you with endless glory shine. 

" So prays, gentlemen, your most obedient and much obliged humble 
servant, "James Maxwell."^ 

* This appeared in the Paisley Advertiser of 2nd December, 1848. 



JOHN WILSON, another of the Minor Poets, was bom 
at Paisley in 173 1. He was bar-officer in the Sheriff Court, 
and was therefore well known to Mr. Motherwell, who was 
sheriff-clerk depute. While Wilson held this situation, Mr. 
Motherwell states (" Harp of Renfrewshire " of 181 9, p. 26), 
he was generally " known throughout the town by the title 
of * The Philosopher.' The subject of one of his songs was 
quite of a local cast, namely, the prohibition issued by the 
Magistrates against the away-taking of peats, feal, and divot 
from the town's moss. It was to the tune of * Sheriffinuir,' 
and was withal a thing of some humour. But perhaps it 
was much indebted to our philosopher for the animated way 
in which he was wont to sing it, for a blyther old man than 
he was not to be found in the three counties. He died at 
the advanced age of 87, in April, 1818, and with him was 
buried the memory of many a good anecdote and merry 
scrap of an old catch." 

John Parkhill states, in his " Ten Years' Experience of a 
Betheral's Life," p. 136, that " about ninety years ago there 
were several weaving factories in Paisley. The most cele- 
brated of these was that of the Cumberland. In this fee- 
lory there was a John Wilson, the author of several songs ; 
among others, * The Peat Stealing,' which was long popular 
as a local song. Our fathers often spoke of the merriment 
which obtained in this factory, always coupled with the 
D2Lmes of Wilson and Lowrie Crawford. Lowrie was what 
may be termed the butt of the brethren ; and as he was the 
hero of Wilson's song, he had both a dread and hatred of 
the poet." He further states in this book that " Wilson was 
a man of sterling talents both natural and acquired. He 


was long the bar-officer of the Sheriff Court ; and, I ra&y 
add, he was the first man in Paisley who wrought a silk web." 
The following is a copy of the song, taken from the 
" Autobiography of Aithur Sneddon " (John PaikhiU), p. 36, 
and the only complete version I have seen : — 

There is sad news in Paisle; lown 

Vou may tell a' Ihe neigtibours roun', 
Especially the puir, man, 
That there is just now made a law, 
I'm SDTC it ne'er will do at a', 
To fine peal criers that dinna steer— 
It't plain and cleer it winna bear 

Nae linin' then at a', man. 

Moss cairyin' is ended, man. 

Peat stealing is nae mair, man ; 
We dauma gang into the moss. 
As we hae dune afore, man. 
The drum it has gane through the lown. 
An' a' peat stealing is cried down i 
An' every ane that catch them can 
Wi' peat in han', be'l short or lang, 
Maun pay mair than a crown, man. 

But what will come o' Lowrie, now ? 

He will be at a loss, man ; 
When he had naething else to do. 
He gade into the moss, man,— 
Brought hame a burden on his back. 
Sometimes he took them frae a stack ; 
Nae hann in that, whate'er he got, 
Be't dry or wet, lo boil his pot. 
He brought it aye awa, man. 

Vet ii is lang sin' greed began, 

The folk I've aft heard say, man. 
He'll come and tak' another gang. 

An' naething he will pay, man ; 


He ties them up into a string, 
An* ower his shouther does them fling, 
An' is nae slack, for in a crack 
He does come back some mae to tak'. 
As fast as he can Ic^, man. 

In former times it was na' sae, 

When they took nought but clods, man ; 
Therell naething do but lang peats now. 
An' that makes a great odds, man. 
So Pake^ may cry till he grows hearse. 
As lang as hrewood is sae scarce, 
We're no sae daft to mind his chaft — 
We've gane owre aft to be sae daft — 
We've heard the drum afore, man. 

And now my sang I must conclude. 

An' may ye tak' gude care, man — 
Tak' care ye don't stick in the mud, 
As Wilson' did afore, man. 
But stay a while till it be dry. 
Then gang your wa's down by and try ; 
Though it be late, ye ken the gate ; 
Some folk I hate at onie rate. 
An' will do till I dee, man. 


* Peacock, Town Officer. * John Wilson, the Author. 


REV. ROBERT BOOG, a native of Edinbui|;h, was 
ordained to the Second Cha^e of the Abbey Church, 
Paisley, on aist April, 1774 ; and on the death of his col- 
league (James Hamilton), on 14th March, 1782, in the 61st 
year of his age, and 31st of his ministry, was admitted to the 
First Charge (29th August, 1782). Mr. Boog, for half-a- 
century, discharged his numerous and important duties con- 
scientiously and with great ability. He also took an active 
part in every public matter in the town of Paisley and Abbey 
Parish which tended to ameliorate the condition of the 
people. When a Dispensary was first established in 1786, 
followed in addition by a House of Recovery in 1803, his 
name appears among the first of the promoters of these use- 
ful institutions. When the Abbey Church was renovated in 
1788, Mr. Boog took an active and leading part. He 
died on 24th July, 1823, in the 74th year of his age, and 
50th of his ministry. The degree of Doctor of Divinity was 
conferred on him by Glasgow University, on ist May, 
1812. Dr. Boog wrote a history of the Abbey, but it was 
never published. The MS. in Jiis own handwriting is in 
the Paisley Free Reference Library, In the year following 
Dr. Boog's death, a volume of his discourses was published, 
selected from his MSS., and edited by Professor Mylne, of 
Glasgow. Dr. Boog was the author of a poem of twelve 
printed pages, published anonymously, and without date. It 
is entitled, " Excursions through the Starry Heavens," and 
was printed by J. Neilson, printer. Paisley. The copy I 
possess of this poetical piece has on it, in the late J. J. 
Lamb's iiandwriting, "By Rev. Dr. Boc^." (The reader is 
referred to my " History of Paisley," voL I., p. 95, for further 


information relating to Dr. Boog). I give an extract from 
this poem : — 



Where yonder radiant host adorn 

The northern evening sky, 
Seven stars, a splendid waving train. 

First fix the wondering eye. 

To deck Great Ursa's shaggy form 

These brilliant orbs combine ; 
And where the first and second point, 

There see the North Pole shine. 

The third looks 'twixt the fourth and fifth 

To silver Vega's * light ; 
The sixth and seventh point near to where 

Arctums ' cheers the night. 

Arcturus first to Vega join, 

The Northern Crown you'll spy ; 
And join'd with Ursa's second star 

He marks Cor Caroli 

Thro' Ursa's second, from her third, 

You reach the Charioteer;' 
Preceding whom, above her Kids, 

Capella^ shines so clear. 

Capella, from the Charioteer 

Will nearly shew the place 
Where Algol ' shines 'bove three faint stars 

In fell Medusa's face. 

A ray from Algol to the Pole 

With accuracy guide, 
Near, but behind it, Algenev,* 

Beams bright in Perseus' side. 

* Vega, the first star in the constellation Lyra, * Arcturus, first in 
the constellation Bootes. * Charioteer, second in Auriga. * Capella, 
first in Auriga. • Algol, second in Perseus. • Algenev, first in Perseus. 


A star leu high than Algenev, 

And later in Ihe sky, 
Less brigbl, and near i(, lo the Ram 

Ihio' Algol, guidei the eye. 

Placed higher thin the Pleiades, 
Two stars, though laint, you'll tee ; 

'Ti» Pereeui' fool ; pass them between. 
You reach what marlis his knee. 

With that sUr, Algol, Algenev, 

Triangular combine; 
And with il Algol and Almach' — 

Stretch forth a radian! line. 

What star * crowiii fair Andromeda, 
What serves to clasp her Zone ? 

From Almach, sparkling at hei feel, 
May easily be known. 

And on from where the pinlon'd miud 

Her cruel fate attends. 
Wide o'er the hesTens his fabled form 

Wing'd Fegasus extends. 

Straight from her head Alpherats ' see, 

It marks the CouRcr's ihigh ; 
Down from her head an equal space. 

What lips his wing you'll spy. 

Cross from her head to Harcab's * beam 

Let a just eye be sent ; 
These four combined, in heav'n's high arch, 

A spacious sqimre present. 

From ihe Wing's tip, Alpherats thro'. 

Now skim asUnl the skies, 
And lo ! bedeck'd with numerous stars. 

The soaring Cygnus flies. 


Later tlun hjn Cjgaoi shines ; 

Earlier the Norlhent Crown ; 
Twixt Ljn, and Cjgnus, rrom the Pole 

To Atair, glide we down. 

Atair in Aquila that flames, 

And V^a's lucid light, 
To Ras Alhagose,' westward joined. 

Form a triangle bright. 

Uire Cerberus and Ihe mystic Branch 

Gleam faint within that space 
Graip'd by Jove's son ;• who, 'twixt the Crown 

And Lyra, claims a place. 

From Atair stoop, see ]'cin bright speck* 

All rang'd in level row ; 
There shines the young Anlinoiu, 

And bends his harmless bow. 

To deck the Dolphin's fancied form 

Two near plac'd groups combine; 
Though small, yet clear ; higher they rise. 

And after Atair shine. 

If during Winter's bright domain 

You range the southern sky. 
The great Orion's splendid form 

Will fill your wondering eye. 

With brilliant gems his belt, his sword. 

His broad-spread shoulders blaie ; 
While radiant Rigel,' at his fool. 

Pours forth his silver rays. 

The glittering belt from Taurus' * eye 

Guides down to Sinus * bright ; 
The spreading shoulders shove you eaM 

To Procyon's' pleasing light. 

> Ras - Alhagne, first in Serpentarius. 'Jove's Son, Hercules. 
' Rieel, tecond in Orion. ' Tauma' Eye, or Aldebaran, •Siriia, 
first in the Great Dog. ■ Procyon, first in Che Little Dog. 


And Rigel, ctoss by 's shoulder, where 

Betelgeux ' bums so red. 
Thro' Pollux' toe, will point the ii^t 
That flames od Castor's head. 

Thro' Cancer's sign, whence no bright stars 

Distinguished light impart ; 
Castor, Ihro* FolloK, sends 70U down 

To hideous Hydra's heart. 

From Hydra's and thro' Leo's heart, 

(It marks the Ecliptic Une,) 
You rise to where, in Ursa great. 

The third and fonrth stars shine. 

From Procyon, too, thro' Leo's heart. 

His blazing tail you gain;* 
Four brilliant stars, a beauteous curve. 

Adorn his ample main. 

From Leo's rise tow'rds Ursa's tail. 

You meet Cor Caroli ; 
Renew your flight thro' Ursa's ax\h, 

Kokab ' salutes the eye. 

Rohab, one bright and two bint stars. 

Stud Lesser Ursa's side 
In oblong square; trace her bent tail, 

On to the Pole you glide. 

Nor stay; trat back thro' Uisa's ^xth 

With long and rapid flight ; 
Descend, and see the Vit^n's Spike* 

Spread round its vernal light. 

To Ursa's siiih Arcturus job. 

Prolong th' imagin'd line. 
Twill mark a star in Sol's bright path, 

The first in Libra's sign. 


Thro* Ras Alhagne, Vega's beam 

Directs th* enquiring eye 
Where Scorpio's heart, Antares, decks 

The southern summer sky. 

Two stars from Scorpio's heart will form 

A westward rising line ; 
This Scorpio's second star, and that 

The same in Libra's sign. 

From Scorpio to where Aries shines 

You catch no brilliant ray, 
Thro' th* interjacent twice two signs, 

To light your trackless way. 

Yet would you know Aquarius' Urn, 

Or where the South Fish * shines 
Marcab that to Andromeda ; ' 

This to Alfaras joins. 

Pass, then, to Rigel ; Rise ; and thro' 

Bellatrix'* paler light, 
And Taurus' northern Horn, once more 

You hail Capella's light. 

Capella plain, thro' Perseus' knee. 

To Aries points your way ; 
And thro' the sparkling Pleiades 

To Menkar*s * distant ray. 

And westward still from Menkar's beam 

With gentle slope descend ; 
The line you trace, the stars you pass, 

O'er the Whale's bulk extend. 

Again from Menkar, by the east 

Of Almach, toVring rise ; 
You'll mark, in Cassiopeia's breast, 

Where Schedar decks the skies. 

* South Fish, in the sign Pisces. ' Andromeda, the first in that Con- 
stellation. ' Bellatrix, third in Orion. * Menkar, first in the Whale. 


Cauiopeia, spangled Queen, 

All sealed in her chair, 
Precedes Cametopardatua, 

As that Ihe Greater Bear. 

Belwixl the Great and Lesser Bears 

The monstrous Draco twines 
His writhing tail ; his sparkling crest 

'Twixt V^a and Kokab shines. 

The ever-watchful Kokab guards. 
While Dubhe ' points, the Pole; 

The Pole at rest sees Heaven's bright hosl 
Unwearied roand him rolL 

> Dubhe', first in the Great Bear. 


THOMAS CRICHTON was bora at Paisley on 7th 
January, 1761. Before 15111 July, 1 791, when he was appoint- 
ed by the Managers of the Poor in Paisley to be their school- 
master and clerk, he taught in a school of his own in the 
town. On a5th January, 1805, the Town Council appointed 
him to the oHice of Session-Clerk in the High Parish. In 
October, 1834, when Mr, Crichton resigned his office of 
Governor to the Town's Hospital for the Poor, the directors 
" expressed their satisfaction with his services, and regret 
(bat his advanced years have rendered it necessary that he 
should relinquish the discharge of some of those duties 
which he for so many years has discharged with such honour 
to himself, fidelity to the institution, and benefit to the 
inmates." Mr. Crichton continued to act as clerk to the 
Board of Directors. He died very suddenly on i8th Nov- 
ember, 1844, aged 83 years. 

Mr. Crichton possessed considerable literary attainments. 
His prose works comprise a biographical sketch of Alexander 
Wilson, the poet and American ornithologist, with whom he 
was acquainted. The memoir first appeared as a series of 
letters to a friend, signed "Senex," in The Weaver^ 
Magaziru and Literary Companion, a Paisley periodical, 
published monthly between September, i8r8, and August, 
1S19. It was afterwards extended and published in a small 
8vo volume of 88 pages ; but as only twenty copies were 
printed, the work is now exceedingly scarce, and commands 
a high price. 

In the periodicals of the day, particularly the Scots 
Afagasiru, EdinHrgk Christian Instructor, and the Paisley 
Advertiser, he wrote a number of interesting articles. His 


memoirs of Paisley clerg>-men — the Rev, John Findlay, of 
the High Church ; Rev. John Wotherspoon, of the Low 
Church ; Rev. Dr. Snodgrass, of the Middle Church ; Rev. 
John Geddes, of the High Church ; Rev. James Baine, the 
first minister in the High Church — are exceedingly interest- 
ing and valuable. He also wrote a useful and able bio- 
graphical sketch of Mr. John Love, merchant, Paisley, 

Mr. Crichton was, besides, a poet ; and his first effusion, 
published in 1785, and eniided "The Sports of Winter," 
was dedicated to the Curlers of Paisley; and in 1805 he pub- 
lished an ode to the memory of Lord Nelson on the news 
of the naval victory at Trafalgar. His largest and best 
work was, however, " The Library : a Poem," published in 
1803, and dedicated " to the President and Curators of the 
Paisley Library Society." This library was instituted in the 
previous year, and was the first library of any importance in 
Paisley. Mr. Crichton was so much delighted with the 
formation of this library, that it aroused within him his 
poetic Acuities. The following is a copy of the opening 
verses, and the work, which consists of seventy-three pages, 
possesses, I think, very considerable merit : — 

Hail I frienda or science ! friends of human kind .' 
Yours is the noblest task t' improve the mind ; 
To fonn, mature, to execute a plan 
Design'd to rouse the latent powers of man ; 
To leacii the youth, within his studious bower. 
To s^iend, improv'd, his idle, vacant hour. 
Tis yours to chase the mental fogs away ; 
Conduct from error's night to truth's bright day ; 
Reclaim from vice's dark entangling snare, 
Lead smoothly on to virtue's temple fair ; 
Prepare for action on life's bustling stage. 
By all the wisdom of the lelter'd page. 
To place before the mind a world all new ; 
Designs like these, ye friends of man, pursue. 


How many, sank in slothes ignoble bed, 

Doze their dull hours away, nor think nor read. 

Ne'er wish to range the fields of knowledge o'er. 

Nor add one mite to their ideal store. 

With them, retirement's listless moments steal 

With leaden feet along, nor ever feel 

Those pleasures, rational, felt by the few 

Wlio thirst for science and her paths pursue. 

In this poem the author reviews the works and conduct of 
the most of our eminent poets. Of Cowper he writes ; — 

Cowpcr ! I yonder see thy dear lov'd name. 
Thy bosom warm'd with true poetic flame ; 
Sweetly thou sang'st 'midst dark affliction's gloom ; 
I see thy country's laurels deck thy tomb ; 
For who the well-earned wreath could e'er refuse 
To thee, lov'd poet, on the banks of Ouse. 
Learning, and taste, and genius, all were thine, 
Thy soul of thought an unexhausted mine, 
A teeming soil where flowers spontaneous grew, 
Of loveliest form, of colours ever new ; 
The sentimental beauties of thy page 
Shall gain the plaudits of each future age. 
Thy page, where truth and virtue stand confest 
In all the charms of purest diction drest ; 
^^^lere fertile fancy join'd to judgment strong. 
Adorn and dignify thy moral song. 

The author, in poetic vein, thus describes Hope Temple 
Gardens, Paisley : — 

Hope Temple ! oft amidst thy verdant bowers, 
Thy blooming shrubs, thy sweetly-scented flowers, 
I've spent the hour, to thoughtful musing due, 
And mark'd each flower and shrub of various hue. 
Laburnum, rich in golden vestments clad ; 
The lilac, in her humbler robes array'd ; 
The woodbine's honied flowers, of rich perfume ; 
Hypericum, in nature's gayest bloom ; 
Mezereon, too, in beauty's form complete ; 
Syringa and the jess'mine's flowers so sweet ; 


And, svreetest for of eveij sbmb ihat blowi. 
The lovely, vaKed, odorifrous rose, 
Whose opening dewy buds refresh m; sight. 

Amid thy scented briary walks 1 rove. 
When o'er the fragrant leaves the zephyrs move, 
R<^le my senses, and wilh grateful soul 
Adore the bounteous God thai made the whole. 
Then, what a blooming paradise display'd. 
When oA, reclin'd near yonder flow'ty shade, 
I've gai'd me round on all (he lovely tnin. 
And dreani'd o( lien's bowers retum'd again. 
Have seen narcissus, pink, and [ulip gay. 
And hyacinths (heir finest tints display ; 
The purple vi'let, and the primrose pale. 
And lily, beauteous empress of the vale ; 
Cowslip and polyanthus, bath'd with dew. 
Auricula, wallflower, and the iris blue ; 
Carnations, spicy odours scutt'ring round : 
AJl these adorn the flower-enamell'd ground, 
Wilh thousands more Ihal grace the flowery plot. 
Come, curious florist, view Ihe enchanting spot. 


WILLIAM GLASSFORD was a native of Paisley, and 
was bom in 1762. He lived in Well Street; where he had 
a shop for groceries. He died in 1822, aged 60 years. 

Id 1 808 he published a small collection of poems, extend- 
ing to sixteen pages, under the title of " Poems upon 
Engaging Subjects." These were — " A New Year's Gift to 
the Public," " On War : France, and Bonaparte," " On the 
Good Soldier," " On the New Light." His rhyming is of 
the poorest description. The following are the first four 
verses of the first piece : — 

Bchol>!, mother year is fled. 

That never will return ; 
Which haih laid many with the dead, 

Though we yet here sojourn. 
.Ml things are subject unto change, 

Which are below the sun ; 
For lime will every thing unhinge 

When once ihcir course is run. 
Time ushers in the budding Spring, 

When nature's clothed in green, 
When cheerful birds are lun'd to sing, 

^Vhich on the boughs ire seen. 

For now the sun comes to our north, 
And warmeth by his r.ty. 

Mr. Motherwell says of him, in the Paisley Magazine, 
page 673,— "William was a dirty, daidhn', snuffy body, 
fond of a dram, and fond to dispose of his rhyme, which he 
hawked through the town. Of his penny and twopenny 


publications we have none save that one which is veiy 
fascinatingly entitled, 'Poems on Engaging Subjects.' 
William kept a small grocer's shop in Lonewelb, Paisley — 
at least his better half did so for him, for the poet scorned 
mechanical toils." 

Mr. David Sempic, in his " Poems and Songs of Tanna- 
hill," page 121, states that Mr. Glassford "was one of the 
minor ihymsters of Paisley, and frequently rested on the 
door-steps (either ' laughin' ' or ' greetin' fou '), opposite the 
house of Professor Wijson, author of ' The Isle of Palms.' 
Willie delighted in children, or children believed in Willie ; 
and he would fonn them into a ring round him, and sing, 
or rather croon, what he called his 'sublime stanza,' the 
description of ' oor ain toun ': — 

' The bonnie loun o' Paisley, 
It slan'ii upon a hill ; 
By it rins Ihe River Cart, 
And ca's the Seetlhill Mill' 

Willie, then, pointing over 10 Professor Wilson's house, 
said — 'If I had been born in that big house, I would hae 
been a gran' poet.'" 


ALEXANDER WIl^ON, Poei, and American Ornith- 
ologist, was bom in Paisley on 6th July, 1 7O6. As the life 
of Wilson has been frequently published, it is not my inten- 
tion to dwell much upon it, but only to advert briefly to the 
more salient points in his career. The house in which he 
was bom overlooked the Hammils in the river Cart at Seed- 
hills, and was taken down many years ago. The two- 
storey house that was erected in its place had a marble 
tablet placed in the front wall having the following inscrip- 
tion on it: — "This tablet was erected in 1841 by David 
Anderson,' Perth, to mark the birthplace of Alexander 
Wilson, Paisley Poet and American Ornithologist." This 
house was also recently taken down, to make room for a 
splendid addition to the thread works of Messrs. Clark & 
Co. Wibon's fother was a handloom weaver to trade, and 
the future poet was the fifth child of a family of six, all of 
whom died in their infancy except two daughters and the 

As Wilson's parents meant him to study for the Church, 
he was sent to the Grammar School ; but his mother dying, 
and his father having taken as his second wife a widow who 
had a family of her own, he became unable to give his son 
the education he intended ; and Alexander was, therefore 

' Mr. Arnler>j)n visited Paisley al that lime to exhibit his group of 
staluaiy, conMstLng of Tam o' Sbanter, Soutar lohnnie, and Warty and 
Meg. FindinR no nwmorial-slone of the birtlipliice of the author of 
" Watty and Sl^." he generously had this marlilc slab placed in ihc 
bouiewollon I7lh August in that year. He vrasassistwl in petfotminRlhe 
ceiemoD]' bj the Saint Miiin hoagc. Paisley, and the .\Icxander Wilson 
Lodge of Odiircllows, The procession thic,uf>h tbe toun by these 
todies was joined ly a great concourse of the inhabitants. 


at the age of thirteen, apprenticed as a weaver with William 
Duncan, who had been married to the poet's eldest sister. 
Soon afterwards, Wilson's father removed to Auchenbothie, 
near Lochwinnoch, where, working at his trade and ctdtivat- 
ing a small piece of land, he remained till 1 790. He after- 
wards returned to Seedhills, and resided there till his death. 
Wilson during four years after completing his apprenticeship 
continued to work as a journeyman weaver, residing partly 
in Paisley and Lochwinnoch, and latterly with his brother- 
in-law, William Duncan, at Queensferry. It is believed that 
it was during that period Wilson wrote the greater number 
of his earlier poems. Wilson also at that time supplied the 
Glasgow Advertiser with a number of his poetical pieces. 

In 1786, William Duncan became a packman, and was 
accompanied in his wanderings by Wilson, who was wearied 
with the monotony of his seat on the loom, and was de- 
lighted to have an opportunity of viewing the beauties of 
nature in all her varied and glorious aspects. While thus 
employed he composed many more of his poems ; and in 
1789 he arranged with John Neilson, printer. Paisley, to 
bring out a volume of poems he had written. In 1789, he 
left Edinburgh to sell his goods and canvass for subscribers 
to his new work in the eastern parts of Scotland. The pre- 
face to the 8vo. volume of " Poems, by Alexander Wilson," 
is dated 22nd July, 1790, and the book consists of 300 
pages. This publication, notwithstanding all his exertions 
in canvassing for orders, was not successful, and he aban- 
doned his labours as pedlar and packman, and commenced 
to work as a weaver in Lochwinnoch. 

I have already stated in the life of Ebenezer Picken the 
part that he and Wilson took in the public debating club in 
Edinburgh, on 14th April, 1791, on the question whether 
Allan Ramsay or Robert P'erguson had done most honour 
to Scottish poetry. Wilson published a second edition of 


hk fonner work, under the title of " Poems : Humorous, 
Satirical, and Serious," and dedicated " To the Honourable 
William Macdowal of Garthland, Member of Parliament." 
Tlie preface is dated from "Seedhills of Paisley, 22nd 
August, 1 79 1." I possess Wilson's own copy of this edition, 
with his MS. notes thereon, mentioned by George Ord and 
Sir William Jardine. On the title page there is written, in 
the poet's own hand, " Alex. Wilson's Book," and on the 
first page of the preface there is also, in his own writing, 
*' I published these poems when only twenty-two, an age 
more abundant in sail than ballast. Reader, let this soften 
the rigour of criticism a little. — Alex. Wilson. — Gray's 
Ferry, July 6th, 1804." 

At the end of the Elegy, at p. 86, he has written, " Poor 

Devil," and then, "This was the production of 

I remember of laughing at it after I wrote it. — A. W." 

At page 171, at the end of the line, That little^ stout 
filhw in great ^ Wilson has a mark, and a corresponding 
one at the foot of the page, " Mr. John Mitchell, dancing- 
master, now in London." 

I give other six specimens of the annotations : — 

On the same page, for the line. Young Jamie, polite 
and endearing, there is the note, " James Mitchell, brother 
to the above, of the same profession, now in Halifax, N.S." 

In page 172, And there sits tJu genius of song, " A brother 
now in New York." In same page. Here sits a S7uain, kind 
and free-hearted, " Andrew Clark, now in the grave." 

At the end of the " Epistle to Mr. A. C," page 195, " The 
person to whom this was addressed, and the person alluded 
to in the last stanzas, are both dead. — 1810." 

In " The Laurel Disputed," page 238, referring to the 
line, Andreiv's gey droll Jwusc — ye' II aiblins ken him, " How I 
made a momentary pause, and the President thinking I had 
asked him the question. — A. W." 

" Elegy addressed to a Young Lady," page 242, " This 


was written in the prospect of death, and retains all the 
marks of sincerity about it yet. — A. W." 

At the end of the piece, " On the Battle of Largs," page 
260, "I have left the right of my translation — no great 
matter. — A. W." 

" A Midnight Adventure," page 261, at the head of this 
piece is the note, " All pretty near truth, except bagpipes. — 
A. W." 

This edition was, notwithstanding all his efforts, not more 
favourably received than its predecessor. It was during 
this year Wilson visited Burns in Ayrshire. 

Near the end of 1792, Wilson published his famous and 
most successful poem, ** Watty and Meg," which I shall 
afterwards have occasion to notice. 

In the beginning of 1793, Wilson wrote a poetical satire, 
entitled "The Shark, or Lang Mills Detected." At this 
time there was a dispute between the manufacturers and the 
weavers of Paisley, and Wilson gave his support to the 
latter. The satirical poem was directed against one of the 
leading manufacturers in Paisley, and in an evil hour Wilson 
sent a manuscript copy of the poem to the gentleman 
against whom it was written, offering to suppress the poem 
on condition of receiving ^^ 5s. For this criminal pro- 
ceeding he was taken before the Sheriff, and subjected to a 
few days' imprisonment, and he had to bum this poem 
publicly on the stairhead of the Tolbooth at the Cross, on 
6th February, 1793, ^^ eleven o'clock forenoon.^ It was 

' The only account by an eye-witness of this painful exhibition is 
from the autobiojjraphy of the late Mr. William M'Gavin, who states 
(p. 19) that **his i)rosecutors were not vindictive. lie sufTercd only a 
few (lays' imprisonment, and the mortification of being obliged to bum 
his poem on the stair fronting the jail. I was one of the few who wit- 
nessed the execution of his sentence with his own hand. Criminal as he 
was, such res])ect was paid to his feelings that no notice was publishe<l 
of the hour of his punishment, and it was witnessed only by those who 
happened to be at the Cross at the time." Mr. M*Gavin wan well 
acquainted with Wilson. Mr. M'Gavin lived for many years in Paislev. 


afterwards stated by Wilson and his friends that he only 
wanted the money in order to give it to the weavers as a 
subscription to aid them in the depressed state of trade that 
existed at that time. 

All these imtoward circumstances, however, combined to 
make Wilson unhappy, and he determined to emigrate to 
America, of which he had heard such favourable * accounts. 
To enable him to secure enough money to carry out this 
resolution, he worked very hard at his trade, and at the same 
time lived on a very small sum. In going to America, 

In 1783, hb father, who had been a farmer in the parish of Auchen- 
Icck, left for Paisley, with the intention of emigrating to America. 
The unwillingness of hb wife to emigrate and the good trade in Paisley 
induced him to change hb resolution. He remained till his death in 
January, 17S9, and hb wife, who continued to live in Paisley, survived 
him twenty-five years. Mr. William M*Gavin was horn on 12th 
August, 1773. He at first only received a village education. His first 
employment was as a draw-boy to a weaver at one shilling a week, and 
he was afterwards apprenticed to be a weaver. His elder brother, who 
had received a superior education, became a successful teacher; and, 
trade getting bad, he attended his brother's school. In 1 790, he entered 
the service of John Neilson, printer and publisher, as a corrector of the 
press, and found the employment much more congenial to his mind 
than the loom. At this time he studied Latin under Mr. Reid, who 
afterwards married his only sister, and having taken out the degree of 
M.D., he practised many years, first in Paisley, and aften^^ards in Glas- 
gow, where he died in iJecember, 1830. Mr. M 'Gavin became a cor- 
respondent to the Glas^rw Advertiser. In 1793, he left Mr. Neilson, 
and went to assbt his brother, the teacher, whom he afterwards suc- 
ceeded, and became very useful to Alexander Wilson in teaching him 
some branches he did not thoroughly understand. In 1793, Mr. 
M "Gavin assbted in forming the first Paisley Philosophical and Literary 
Association, and read several essays at their meetings. After being a 
teacher for two and a-half years, he gave it up, and began to be a 
manufacturer of thread, but was unsuccessful. In 1799, when he had 
resided for sixteen years in Paisley, he obtained a situation in Glasgow, 
where he was a merchant and finally agent to the branch Linen Coy. 's 
Bank in Glasgow, and died thereon 23rd August, 1832. Mr. M*Gavin*s 
name b associated with several literary works, but he is best kno\^Ti as 
being the author of "The Protestant.'* His remains were interred in 
the crypt of Wellington Street Chapel. A plain but elegant marble 
monument was erected by his widow over his grave. A handsome 
monument, surmounted by a statue of Mr. M 'Gavin, was erected to his 
memory in the Glasgow Necropolis by public subscription. 


he walked from Paisley^ to Portpatrick, and, crossing the 
channel to Ireland, sailed from Belfast as a steerage pas- 
senger on 23rd May, 1794, and landed at Newcastle, in the 
State of Delaware, thirty-three miles from Philadelphia, oo 
14th July following, with only a few shillings in his pocket 
Wilson was accompanied by his nephew, William Duncan. 
Being unable to obtain employment as a weaver, he made an 
engagement to work with a copperplate printer. But shortly 
afterwards he managed to get employment as a handloom 
weaver at Pennycreek, about ten miles from Philadelphia. 
At the end of 1795, from a desire to see more of the 
country, he left the loom, and became a packman, travelling 
in New Jersey with considerable success. In this journey 
he kept a jotimal, and from its contents it is endent he was 
paying great attention to the birds he saw. After this ex- 
cursion into New Jersey, which was of short duration, he 
adopted a profession more congenial to his literary tastes — 
that of a teacher of youth ; and was so engaged successfully 
in schools at Frankfort, in Pennsylvania; Millstown, Bloom- 
field, in New Jersey; Kingsessing, a short distance from 
Grey's Ferry, on the river Schuylkill. 

In June, 1803, when writing to a friend in Paisley, he 
says : — " Close application to the duties of my profession, 
which I have followed since November, 1 795, has deeply 
injured my constitution ; the more so that my rambling 
disposition was the worst calculated of any one in the world 
for the austere regularity of a teacher's life. I have had 
many pursuits since I left Scotland — mathematics, the Ger- 
man language, music, drawing, &c.; and I am about to make 
a collection of all our finest birds." 

Wilson now commenced in earnest to prepare himself for 
the great and important scientific work which he had resolved 
to write — the birds of America. He began to draw, to 
etch, and (o colour. 


Eariy in 1806, he was engaged by a bookseller in Phila- 
delphia to edit Ree's Cyclopedia, and superintend the work 
while passing through the press. At the same time he 
devoted his spare hours to his own forthcoming great work, 
the first volume of which was published in September, 1808. 
In the same month, Wilson went to the Eastern States to 
obtain subscribers for his book, and he aftenvards went to 
the Southern States for the same purpose. There were 200 
copies of the first volume printed, and the number was 
afterwards increased to 500 copies. 

When the second volume was published in January, 1810, 
he immediately started on a tour to the Western States, and 
descended the Ohio in a little skiff alone. On arriving at 
Louisville, distant 700 miles from the place of his departure, 
he sold his boat Wilson afterwards went to New Orleans, 
and on returning to Philadelphia he pushed forward the 
completion and publication of his important work on Ameri- 
can Ornithology as quickly as possible. What with the 
great labour and anxiety he was undergoing in carrying all 
this out, he greatly injured his health. On 6th July, 181 2, 
he wrote to a friend in Paisley, " I am myself far from being 
in good health. Intense application to study has hurt me 
much. My eighth volume is now in the press, and will be 
published in November. One volume more will complete 
the whole." But it was not granted him to see this carried 

His latter end exhibits the enthusiasm with which he had 
pursued and captured the American birds. When sitting at 
the window in his own house, he saw a bird pass of which 
he had long desired to get possession. At once he lifted 
his gun and left the house, and in the pursuit he had to 
si*im across a river, but he succeeded in securing the bird. 
By this action he caught a severe cold, which brought on his 
old malady, dysentery, and caused his death on 23rd August, 


1 8 13, after ten days' illness. His remains were interred 
next day in the cemetery connected with the Swedish Church 
in Southwark, Philadelphia.* A plain monument, consisting 
of a marble slab supported by four marble pillars, covers his 
grave, and bears the following inscription : — 







he was born in renfrewshire, scotland, 

On the 6th July, 1766, 

emigrated to the united states 

In the Year 1794, 

and died in philadelphia 

of the dysentery 

On THE 23RD August, 1813, 

AGED 47. 

As a few sheets only of the eighth volume had been 
printed at this time, Mr. George Ord, a loving friend, edited 
what remained. The plates of the ninth and last volume, 
published in May, 18 14, were printed under Wilson's own 
care, and the letterpress was provided by Mr. Ord. WTiile 
I admire much of the poetry by Wilson, undoubtedly his 
genius, industry, and daring research have shone most con- 
spicuously in his great scientific work, "The American 
Ornithology." The birds are so beautifully delineated and 
coloured by Wilson in this noble work, that one never 
wearies turning over the leaves to behold and admire their 
life-like appearance. 

* The remains of Alexander Wilson were interred here by those with 
whom he lived at that time, and who worshipped in the Swedish 
Church. — ** Sketch of the Life of Alexander Wilson," by Cicorge Ord, 
who was from home at Wilson's death. 


Whfle travelling in America in 1877, along with two of 
my daughters, Isabella and Eleonora, when in Philadelphia 
we went reverently to the spot where the remains of our 
illustrious townsman repose. I regretted, however, to 
observe that Paisley, the birthplace of Wilson, did not ap- 
pear in the inscription on the tomb, but only the very 
indefinite " Renfrewshire." 

Notwithstanding the very early age at which nearly all the 
poems and songs were written by Wilson, they exhibit much 
poetic sensitiveness and observation. But the most popular 
and amusing ballad of '' Watty and Meg," published anony- 
mously in pamphlet form by our townsman, Mr. Neilson, 
before Wilson left for America, was the most successful 
production of his muse. It is stated that its popularity was 
so great that 100,000 copies were disposed of in a few 
weeks. At first the ballad was considered to be from the 
pen of Bums, then in the height of his popularity. The 
name of the author of " Watty and Meg " must be asso- 
ciated with that of Ramsay, Ferguson, and Burns, as a 
correct delineator of the life and manners of a section of 
humble life in Scotland. I quote one or two passages from 
this ballad ; — 

Keen the frosty winds were blawing, 

Deep the snaw had wreath 'd the ploughs, 

Watty, weari'd a* day saM'ing, 
Daunert doun to Mungo Blue's. 

Dryster Jock was sitting cracky, 
Wi' Pate Tamson o' the Hill, 
•* Come awa," quo' Johnny, ** Watty, 
Haith we'se hae anither gill." 

Watty, glad to see Jock Jabos, 

And sae mony neighbours roun', 
Kicket frae his shoon the snawba's, 

Syne ayont the fire sat doun. 


Mungo fiird him up a toothfu', 
Drank his health and Meg's in ane, 

Watty, puffing out a mouthfu', 
Pledg'd him wV a dreary grane. 

•* What's the matter, Watty, wi' you? 
Trouth, your chafts are fa'ing in ! 
Something wrang — I'm vex'd to see you- 
Gudesake ! but ye're desp'rate thin ! " 

•* Ay," quo' Watty, "things are alter'd. 
But its past redemption now ; 
Lord ! I wish I had been halter'd 
When I marry'd Maggie Howe ! " 

In the thrang of stories telling. 
Shaking hauns, and ither choir, 

Swith ! a chap comes on the hallan — 
•• Mungo, IS our Watty here ?" 

Maggie's weel-kent tongue and hurry 
Darted thro' him like a knife. 

Up the door flew — like a fury 
In came Watty's scowling wife. 

Nasty, gude-for-naething being ! 

O, ye snuffy, drunken sow ! 
Bringing wife and weans to ruin — 

Drinking here wi* sic a crew ! " 


Watty heard her tongue unhallow'd, 
Pa/d his groat wi' little din. 

Left the house, while Maggie fallow'd, 
Flyting a' the road behin'. 

Soon as e'er the morning peepet. 
Up raise Watty, waefu' chiel, 

Kist his weanics, while they slcepit, 
Wauken'd Meg, and sought farewell. 

" O, my W^atty, will ye lea* me, 
Frien'less, helpless, to despair, 
O, for this ae time forgie me ; 
Never will I vex ye mair. 


*• Thro* the yirth I'll wauner wi' you ; 
Stay, O Watty I stay at hamc ; 
Here, upo' my knees, I'll gic you 
Ony vow ye like to name." 

Maggie sjme, because he prest her. 

Swore to a'thing owre agam ; 
Watty lap, and danc'd, and kist her ; 

Wow ! but he was won'rous fain. 
• ••••• 

The foregoing shows Wilson's powerful humour, and the 

following quotation from the poem of " The Disconsolate 

Wren " abounds in sweet sympathetic tenderness : — 

The morn was keekin' frae the east, 
The lavrocks shrill, wi' dewy breast, 

Were tow'ifag past my ken, 
Alang a bumie's flow'ry side. 
That gurgl'd on wi' glancing glide, 

I gained a bushy glen ; 
The circling nets ilk spider weaves 
Bent wi' clear dew-drops hung, 
A* roun' amang the spreading leaves 
The cheery natives sung. 

On'ts journey, the bumie 

Fell dashing doun some lins. 
White foaming, and roaming, 
In rage amang the stanes. 

While on the gowan turf I sat, 
And viewed this blissfu' sylvan spat. 

Amid the joyous soun', 
Some moumfu* chirps, methought of wae. 
Stole on my ear frae 'neath a brae, 

Where, as I glinted doun, 
I spy'd a bonny wee bit Wren, 

Lone, on a fuggy stane ; 
An* aye she tore her breast, an' then, 
Poor thing, pour'd out her mane. 
Sae faintive, sae plaintive ; 

To hear her vent her strain 
Distrest me, an* prest me. 
To ken her cause of pain. 


" What dolefu' ill, alas ! what woe 
Gars thee sit mourning here below, 

And rive thy mirley breast ? 
Has ony \Yhitret*s direfii* jaws, 
Or greedy Gled's fell squeezing claws, 

Made thy wee lord a feast ? 
Or have some callans frae the toun, 

While roaring through the shaw, 
Thy wee things, nest an* a\ torn doun. 

An' borne them far awa* ? " 

The Wren, in the able and touching language of the poet, 
describes how the nest and birds were destroyed : — 

** The brae had fa'n huge to the plain, 
An' dashed them a' to death." 

In the following, which are the last stanzas, the Wren thus 
concludes her melancholy and distressing tale : — 

" Nae mair I'll thro' the valley flee, 
An' gather worms wi' blissfu' glee. 

To feed my cheeping young ; 
Nae mair wi' Tam himsel' I'll rove, 
Nor shall e'er joy, throughout the grove, 

Flow frae my wretched tongue ; 
But lanely, lanely aye I'll hap, 

'Mang aul' stane-dykes and braes, 
Till some ane roar doun on my tap, 
An' end my joyless days." 
So lowly, and slowly, 

Araise the hapless Wren ; 
While crying, and sighing, 
Remurmur'd through the glen. 

A pedestrian journey accomplished in October, 1804, 
by Wilson, along with a friend and his cousin, in 
the course of which they travelled upwards of twelve 
hundred miles to the Falls of Niagara, was for- 
tunately the means of his afterwards publishing a poem 
called " The Fcrcsters," descriptive of this tour and of the 


scenery of America. " The Foresters " first appeared in a 
MisceUany in 1809-10 called the Portfolio^ with two illus- 
trations drawn by Wilson himself, but his sketches were en- 
graved by George Cooke, of London. (Life of Wilson^ by 
George Ord, p. 68.) I possess two of these illustrations, 
and I give the one representing the inside of the log-house 
occupied by a trapper, which is minutely and vividly de- 
scribed at page 49 of "The Foresters." This picture is 
highly interesting. The centre figure is, of course, Wilson 
himself, the one on his right is his friend Leitch, and the 
other on his left is his cousin. 

A small log-hovel shone with glimmering light ; 
Here one lone woman and a boy we found, 
The Trapper^ absent on his usual round, 
On board his skiff had sailed, six days ago, 
To try his luck some twenty miles below. 
This solitary hut, small, cheerless, rude, 
Amidst vast swamps and wildernesses stood. 
Where nightly horrors banished oft repose. 
Such savage cries from wolves and panthers rose ; 
Even round the bolted door, the woman said. 
At midnight frequent she could hear their tread. 
The fire blazed bright ; around us we surveyed 
The pendant furs with which it was arrayed. 
A sacred horse-shoe, guardian of the whole. 
Terror of sprites profane, and witches foul, 
Dread, powerful talisman 'gainst imps unknown. 
Nailed o'er the door, in silent mystery shone. 
Just as the dame her glowing hearth had cleared, 
The ragged owner of the hut appeared. 
Laden with skins, his traps around him slung ; 
Two dead racoons across his shoulder hung ; 
Musk>rats and possums in each hand he bore, 

A large brown otter trailed along the floor ; 

And as he soused them down with surly gloom. 

The skun"k*s abhorred effluvia filled the room. 

** Friends, how d'ye do? Well, wife, how come you on ? 

How fare the calves ? " ** Why, three of them are gone !" 


" Three ! D— n these wolves ! thejr'll eat up house and hall ! 
Andhavetheykilledihesheep!" "Theyhave." "What,«U?" 
"Yes, all." . . . , "1 thought it would be so. 
Well, now they're ai the devil, let them go." 
So said, he wbets his knife to skin his store, 
While heaps of red raw carrion fill the floor. 
As morning dawned, our Utile sklfT we trimmed. 
And through the misty flood with vigour skimmed. 

While in Philadelphia in 1877, as already stated, I called 
on Mr. Benjamin F. Karrick, to see if I could obtain from 
him any relics belonging to Alexander Wilson. Mr. Karrick, 
I had learned, was a nephew of Mr. George Ord, who had been 
one of the executors under the poet's will. At Mr. Ord's 
death, in 1863, a number of things that belonged to Wilson 
were given to Mr. Karrick, who most cheerfully gave me the 
following relics that were once owned by the famous 
American Ornithologist : — Gun, in case, used by Wilson in 
shooting specimen birds ; field-glass, when so employed ; 
drawing of bird, with autograph description ; drawings of 
six birds, finished and partly unfinished. Mr. Karrick 
assured me that I had received all he possessed that be- 
longed to Wilson, and at the same time gave me a letter 
stating how he obtained these relics, and declaring they 
were all genuine. 

I possess also the following relics of Alexander Wilson : — 
His copy of the second edition of his poems, 1791, as 
already referred 10; letter by Wilson, dated nth June, 1800, 
addressed to Charles Orr, writing-master. Paisley ; poetical 
epistle by Wilson to Mr. Charles Orr, writing-master, dated 
Millstown, 11th June, 1800; the two illustrations in "The 
Forester," already noticed ; autograph of Wilson's signature, 
taken out of a book given by him to Mr. Charles Oir, 
Paisley ; first edition of Wilson's " American Omithol<^y," 
9 volumes. 

It was for a long time the desire of the inhabitants of 


Paisley that a monument should be erected to the memory 
of Alexander Wilson, Poet and Ornithologist, in his native 
town. A subscription for that purpose was commenced 
some fears prior to 1850, by a Committee having Mr. James 
Claik, Chapel House, as the treasurer, and Mr. James 
Caldwell, writer, as secretary ; but, owing to the bad trade 
whidi prevailed in the town and other circumstances, little 
progress was made for some time in obtaining money. 
According to the report of the Committee in 1850, when the 
fiinds amounted to ^^119 7s. 4d., an urgent and eloquent 
appeal was made for additional subscriptions. In 1858, 
when the iiinds amounted to ;£43o, of which ^70 had been 
contributed by the Philosophical Society of Philadelphia, a 
fiirther call for subscriptions was made by the Paisley Philo- 
sophical Institution. It was not till about twelve years 
thereafter that sufficient funds were accumulated, and then a 
difficulty arose as to the site on which the monument should 
be placed. ^Vhen the houses on the east side of Abbey 
Close were removed, and tlie Abbey bur>ing-ground was 
properly enclosed and laid off, it was at once seen that a very 
superior site was obtained for the monument. It was ac- 
cordingly erected on these grounds, at the north-west comer 
of Abbey Close and Smithhills Street. The memorial is a 
twonze statue of our eminent townsman, by John Moss- 
man, sculptor, Glasgow, who gained the honour of providing 
and erecring it by competition. The statue is seven and 
a-half feet h^h, and is placed on a pedestal of grey granite, 
ten and a-half feet in height. It is placed in a graceful and 
appropriate position. Wilson is represented as resting against 
the trunk of a tree. In his right hand he holds a pencil, and 
in his left hand a dead bird which he is in the act of ad- 
miring ; at his feet are a hat and portfolio, on which is rest- 
ing a favourite parrot, and behind him is his gun, with which 
he shot so many remarkable birds. The unveiling of the 


monument took place on 8th October, 1874, before an im- 
mense assembly of people ; and it was handed over to the 
Provost, Magistrates, and Town Council of Paisley, as its 
future custodiei^. After the completion of the ceremony at 
the monument, the members of Committee and some others 
met, by invitation, in the County Hall, where — Provost 
Murray presiding — wine and cake were served, and several 
toasts appropriate to the occasion were proposed. 


JOHN ROBERTSON was bom at Pusley on 30th 
November, 1767. His lather vas a grocer, and carried on 
an extensive and profitable business at Na az Sandholes, 
Paisley, and was therefore able to give his son as good an 
education as could be obtained in the town. The father 
afterwards becoming unfortunate in business, the future poet 
teamed the weaving trade. He was well acquainted with 
Alexander Wilson, Ebenezei Picken, and other congenial 
poetical spirits. In 1800, the year of the great dearth 
arising from bad harvests, he wrote the " Toom Meat Pock," 
which was long a very popular song in the West, and, when 
I was young, I frequently heard it sung at public dinners. 
He was, besides, an artist and a good musician. I shall 
give at the end of this short memoir a copy of this song. 
His poetical pieces were, however, never collected and 

The poet becoming disgusted with working at the loom, 
enlisted in the Fifeshire Militia in 1803. His literary 
abilides speedily attracted the attention of his commanding 
officer, who appointed him to an extra regimental clerkship. 
^Vhen several Scottish Militia Regiments were quartered in 
the south of England, he and James King, a fellow-towns- 
man and poet, who held an appointment similar to his own, 
often met. King thus wrote regarding his friend : — 

" In his company I passed some of the pleasantest hours 
that I spent in the army. At our interviews I was often in- 
dulged with a perusal of his MSS.; but how sadly was the 
spirit of his song changed. The earlier part of his writings 
breathed a liveliness that in the composition of his riper 
years had given way to the elegiac ; and from the lengthened, 
well-designed, and soaring poem, he had descended to the 


dull sonnet of fourteen lines, or ode of three or four stanzas. 
In 1810, when the regiment was quartered in Portsmouth, 
his battalion arrived at Kilsea, three miles distant ; and as I 
had just received a letter from Tannahill — the last I got 
from him^I walked out to see him, in a few days after his 
arrival, expecting a ' feast of reason ' for an hour or two ; 
' but as I approached the barrack gate I passed over a 
quantity of loam, earth, and stones, upon which several 
soldiers stood, looking very pensively down. 1 inquired of 
them where I would find my friend, but none seemed willing 
to give me an answer. At length, one of them, pointing to 
the loose earth and stones, informed me that I had just 
walked over him, and had I been a little sooner I should 
have seen him buried. ' Poor man ! ' said he, ' your friend 
raised his hand against himself, and was buried here just as 
he was found.' " 


Preserve us a' ! whal shall wc do. 
These dark, unhallowed times ? 

We're sarel)' dreeing penance now 

Sedition dnuma now appear. 

In reality or joke. 
For ilka chiet maun mum wi' me 

O' a hin^ng tooni meal-pock. 
And sing, Oh, waes me ! 
When lasses braw gaed out at e'en. 

For sport and pastime free, 
I seem'd like one in Paradi,'*, 

The momenls quick did flee. 
Like Vcnuses they a' appeareil, 

Wee! poulher'd were their locks ; 
'Twas easy dune, w hen -it Iheir hames, 

Wi' Ihe shaking o' Iheir pocks. 
And sing, Oh, waes me ! 
How happy jiadiscd my Tormer days, 

Wi' merry heartsome glee. 
When smiling fortune held (he cup. 

And peace sat on my knee ; 


Nae wants had 1 but were supplied. 

My heart wi' joy did knock, 
When in the neuk I smiling saw 

A gaacie well-filled pock. 
And sing, Oh, n'aes me I 
Speak no ae word aboat Reform, 

Nor petition Parliament { 
A wiser scheme I'll now propose, 

I'm stire ye'll gie consent- 
Send up a chiel or twa like me. 

As a sample o' the flock, 
Wbase hollow cheeks will be sure proof 

O' a hinging toom meal-pock. 
And sing, Oh, waes me ! 
And should a sicht sae ghastly -like, 

Wi' rags, and banes, and skin, 
Hae nae impression on yon folks. 

Rut tell ye'll stand ahin'. 
Oh, what a cunlratil will ye shaw 

To (he clowrin' Lunnun folk, 
When in ^t. James' ye lak' your slanrl, 

Wi' a hinging toom meal.pock. 
And sing. Oh, waes mc. 
Then rear your hand, and glow'r, and star 

Before yon hills o' beef, 
Tell Ihem ye are frae ScotUind come. 

For Scotia's relief ; 
Tell them ye are the vera best, 

Wal'd frae the fattest (lock ; 
Then raise your arms, and, O ! dispkiy 

A hinging toom meal -pock. 
And sing, Oh, waes me ! 
Tell them ye 're wearied o' the chain 

That bauds the State thegither, 
For Scotland wishes Ihem to lak' 

Cude night wi' ane anither. 
We canna thole, we canna bide 

Thb hard unwieldy yoke. 
For work and want but ill agree 

Wi' a hinging toom mtal-pock. 
And sing, Ob, waes nie I 



EBENEZER PICKEN was bom in Wellmeadow Street, 
Paisley, in 1770. His father was a weaver by trade, and 
came to Paisley from Ayrshire when good wages could be 
obtained at handloom weaving. Ebenezer was an only son, 
and his &ther gave him a good education. After a course 
of study at the Grammar School, Paisley, he became a 
student in the University of Glasgow, his &ther intending 
him for the clerical profession among a body of Presby- 
terian Dissenters to which he himself belonged. Ebenezer 
was at college for about five years, and was regarded as a 
clever young man, who had a lively disposition but was 
rather fond of the social circle. 

Picken did not follow out his original intention of joining 
the ministry, as he opened, 1791, a school at Falkirk, when 
not more than twenty-one years of age. Soon afterwards, he 
married a daughter of the Rev. Mr. Belfrage, of the Bui^gher 
Church in that town. His intention of taking up a school 
was to enable him to obtain means to complete his studies 
at the University. He did not remain long in Falkirk, but 
went to an endowed school at the village of Carron. 

About 1796 he removed from Carron to Eklinburgh, to 
become manager in a mercantile business. He did not re- 
main long there, for he commenced business on his own 
account. This venture proved unsuccessful, and he resumed 
his old occupation of a teacher of youth. When in Edin- 
burgh, he resided for a time in Hamilton Entry, Bristo 
Street, and it was here he kept school. Robert and William 
Chambers then lived with their parents in the same part of 
the city. William Chambers, in the life of his brother 
(p. 72), says: — "If anything, the families hereabout were 
hard-up, and, to be plain, we were hard-up, too. Our 


dwelling was on the second floor of the stair, and on the 
flat immediately beneath resided Ebenezer Picken, a 
scholarly gentleman in reduced circumstances, who, afler 
trying various shifts to secure a living for himself and 
haalj, now professed to teach languages, and endeavoured 
to sell by subscription one or two volumes of poems, which, 
I fear, did not do much for him.'' In 1816, Ebenezer 
Picken, then forty-six years of age, died of consumption. 

When a student at the Glasgow University, in 1788, he 
published a volume of " Poems and Epistles, mostly in the 
Scottish Dialect, with a Glossary," consisting of 252 pages, 
and it was printed at Paisley by "John Neilson, for the 
Author." We make a selection, called " New-Year^s-Day," 
from the first poem in this book : — 


Now Simmer's gowden beam withdrawn, 
Brings hoary Winter owre the lawn ; 
While, drivin' cauld, in awfu* form, 
Bauld Boreas aids the direfu' storm. 
Nae langer blooms the flowery thorn, 
Whase fragrant sweets perfum'd the mom ; 
Nor cheerfu' swains incessant rove 
To view the beauties o' the grove. 
The herd, poor thing, through chilling air. 
Tends in the meads his fleecy care ; 
Owre frozen haughs, an' wreaths o' sleet, 
Row'd in a coarse wo'en moorlan' sheet. 
Up to some hillock-tap or brae, 
He bends his way, baith cauld and blac. 
To see gif owre the neighb'ring dale 
The scrvan' brings his morning meal. 
Sic aspect does Dame Nature wear 
When issuin' in the new-bom year. 
Now, lang before the cock has crawn, 
Or eastern streeks proclaim'd the dawn, 
Braw canty chiels are a' a-steer. 
To glad their sauls wi' Ne'erday cheer. 


The next selection, taken at random, is from a song called — 
Lassie, will ye hae a lover ? 

Ken ye Colin likes ye weel ? 
Keen his ilame, he wad discover. 

But he's bashfu' to reveal. 
O' kintni lasses, biyth an' bonny, 

I sal let ye ken, my Bell, 
Colin never sigh'd for ony 

Ha'f sae pretty as yersel'. 
Tall an' slender is yer stature. 

Rosy cheeks on' coal-black e'en ; 
Far mair charmin' is ilk feature 

Than the lilly on the green. 
Bonny lassie, just but let me 

Say, 1 loe ye as my life ; 
Be nae shy, an' yc sal get me. 

For I'm thinkin' on a wife. 
I've a pownie, lit for lidin'. 

An' a cow, to gic yc milk ; 
Wabs o' gude Kilmarnock plaidin', 

Maist as salt as ony silk. 
Ilin'most, I've a poke o' siller, 

Haufas big's a knockin' niell ; 
Kists o' grain like ony miller, 

Wailin a' for bonny Bell. 

Ebenezer Picken and Alex. Wilson, Poet and American 
Ornithologist, being contemijoraneously townsmen, were 
intimately acquainted. When Wilson published at Paisley 
in 1790 his first edition of poems, one is headed an 
"Epistle to Mr. E. P., author of a volume of poems," 
meaning, of course, Ebenezer Picken ; and the two last lines 
of this piece, which consisted of eleven verses, were : — 

I'll reverence, while blest wi' sense. 
The poems and the poet. 


Towards the close of the last centur)-, a number of literati in 

Edinburgh formed themselves into a debating society, and 

held their meetings in the Pantheon. Occasionally, they 

held open meetings and offered prizes, — that is, a subject 

was fixed for a certain evening, competitors were invited from 

all quarters, and a prize was offered to the best disputant. 

Such a meeting was held on 14th April, 1791, and the 

subject was — ** Whether have the exertions of Allan Ramsay 

or Robert Ferguson done more honour to Scottish poetry? " 

Seven comi)etitors came forward, of whom two, viz.,Ebenezer 

Picken and Alexander Wilson, were from Paisley. Picken 

delivered an oration in blank verse in favour of Ramsay, and, 

in friendly rivalry, his intimate acquaintance and townsman, 

Alexander Wilson, advocated the cause of Ferguson in a 

poem entitled — ** The Laurel Disputed." Neither of them, 

however, was successful ; for the prize was carried off by a 

Mr. Gumming who, it was alleged, obtained it by false 

means. Wilson was greatly disappointed and downcast by 

the decision ; but Picken was too gay and light-hearted to 

be in any way disconcerted. Before leaving Edinburgh, the 

two friendly bards published their poems in the form of a 

pamphlet The first piece by Picken is called " The 

Celestial Finale," and appears, with some alterations and 

additions, in the last collection of his poetry, published in 

1 813. The second, by Wilson, is entitled "An Elegy 

Addressed to a Young Lady," which is included in the 

recent collection of his works. 

In 18 13, Picken collected and published in two volumes 
nearly all the pieces he had written, under the title 
** Miscellaneous Poems, Songs, &c." He states in the 
preface — " a few of the following pieces were published by 
the author in early life when he was more conversant with 
literary subjects than he has been for some time past. All 
of these juvenile pieces have, on the present occasion, under- 


gone considerable alteration." I give an extract from the 

first poem in the first volume, entitled — 


I have fell all tbe pleasures of Hope id my youth. 

Which manhood has ne'er realised ; 
I have doated on Virtue, and doaled on Truth, 

And find these still to be priz'd. 
But the phantoms which fancji presented (o view. 

Like the dews of the morning are fled ; 
I grasped at each joy, while I strained to pursue 

And embiac'd — but a shade in its stead. 

I have liv'd to lose riches, yet shed not a tear. 

For hope has surviv'd their decay ; 
I have bonie the proud insult of those sure most dear. 

For even friendship can wither away. 
Oh ! now I well know what it is to be poor, 

Tis the sin which can ne'er be forgiven ; 
Yet, on earth tho' it shut both the heart and the door. 

It CJicludes not the wretched from Hsaven. 

Now 1 feel, with the wise, what a fool I have been 

Not to know where true happiness lies. 
She lives in those hearts which, thro' Time's chequcr'd scene, 

Can the visions of fortune despise. 
'Tb the vein where the treasures of life he concealed. 

And the miner is sure to be blest— 
In his short span of time present hope is rcveal'd, 

And the future bestows all the resL 

I also give anothei extract from a song called — 
Why starts the tear in Anna's eye? 

Why is her cheek so pale ? 
That quivering lip and painful sigh 
Would speak some moumfut tale. 


S*7, luve jnni teea the nigin lose 
E'er blasted in its bloom ? 

O I shed a tear for all her woes. 
For such is Anna Hume. 

No opening flower in summer mom 
More sweet, more fair (ban she ; 

Till, from her gentle bosom ton. 
Her William went to sea. 

On Egypt's bloody coast, 1 ween, 
Young William met his doom. 

No pleasure since Ihe eye has seen 
or hapless Anna Hume. 

He fiist, the sweetest on the plain, 
Hid taught her heart to sigh ; 

While, as her glance met his again. 
She blushed, and knew not why. 

Love life's honzon gilds afar, 
They fear'd no gatliering gloom ; 

But ah '. the thunderbolt of war 
Has widow'd Anna Hume. 

Mr. Thomas Crichton, author of " The Library" already 
refencd to, in his biographical sketch of Alexander Wilson 
in the Weavers' Magazine oi 15th July, 1819, in writing about 
Picken, whom he knew well, states that " he was young and 
volatile, and inexperienced in the ways of men, and ambi- 
tious of following the footsteps of the Ayrshire bard in paths 
of fame ; he relied more on his o»vn judgment in this matter 
than his more matured judgment approved, for I well 
remember that after sanguine expectation of success had been 
disappointed in publication, he expressed to me his deep 
regret that he had not taken the salutary advice of Horace 
in allowing his pieces to lie a considerable time beside him 
that they might frequently pass under critical review. I 


always looked on this lively young man as one possessed of 
real poetical genius." 

Picken at his death had lying prepared and intended for 
publication a Pocket Dictionary of the Scottish Dialect. 
This work was published in 1818, but it appeared without 
the author's name and without even an allusion to hiu). 
The Rev. Dr. Jamieson, in his Scottish Dictionary, frequently 
quotes, as his authority, Scottish words used by Picken in 
works published in 1788 and 1813.* 

' [n 1879, were publiiiheil my memoiri of Ebenezer Picken, poet, 
.ind of Andrew PicWn, novelist, natives of Paisley, with portraits, t» 
which the reader is referred for further information. 


GEORGE MACINDOE was bom in Partick in 1771. 
He came to Paisley to work as a silk weaver. He remained 
for a considerable time, and afterwards went to Gla^ow 
ro be the keeper of an hotel situated at the head of King 
-Street After being in business for twenty-one years, he be- 
came unsuccessful, and returned to Paisley to resume work- 
ii^ at the loom. He also had a small public-house, and, 
being a good player on the violin, he officiated at concerts 
aod other places where his musical performances were 
required. Being ingenious as a weaver and mechanician, 
he invented a machine for figuring on muslin, which secured 
to hini rewards from the Board of Trustees and Che Cor- 
poration of the City of Glasgow. 

He followed the muse, and in 1S05 published a small 
volume of " Poems and Songs, chiefly in the Scottish 
Dialect"; and in 1S13 he published another volume of 
songs, entitled " The Wandering Muse : or, a Miscellany of 
Original Poetry." He was, besides, a contributor of songs 
to local publications. He died at Glasgow on 19th April, 


Ttint -" The gudc forgic me for levin' r^' 

Brither Jamie cam' wesi, wi' a braw bum trout, 
An' speir'd how acquaintance were "greeing ; 

He broughl it Trie Peebles, tied up in a clout, 
An' said il wad jusl be a precing, a preeing. 
An' said it wnd just be a pteeing. 

' "'The Bum Trout' was composed oni real incident which it descrilies, 
naiiKly, a supper where the chief dish was a salmon lirou(,'hl from reelilvs 
to Glasgow by my father, who, when learning his business as a manu- 
facturer in the western city about Ihe end of the century, hail formed an 
with the poet,"— ^'i-/^ /y A'l'Air/ Chambers, LL.D. 


In the born thai rins by his grandmotlier's door 

This trout had lang been a dweller, 
Ae nighl fell asleep a wee piece frae the shore, 

An' was kill'd wi' a stane by ihe miller, the miller. 

An' was kill'd wi' a stane by Ihe miller. 
This trout il was gutted an' dried on a nail 

That grannie had reested her ham on, 
Weel rubbed wi' sau( frae the head to (he tail, 

An' kipper'd as't had been a sa'mon, a sa'moiL 

An' kipper'd as't bod been a sa'mon. 
This trout it was boil'd and set ben on a plate, 

Nae fewer than ten mode a feast o't ; 
The banes and the tail (hey were gi'en (o the cat. 

But we lickit our lips at Ihe rest o't, the rest o't. 

But we liclcit our lips at the rest o't. 
When this trout it was eaten, we were a' like to rive, 

Sae ye mauna think 'twas a wee ane ; 
May ilk trout in the bum grow muckle an' thrive, 

An' Jamie bring west aye a preeing, a preeing, 

An' Jamie bring west aye a preeing. 


" Frail man ! his days are like the glass," 

Or tender mountain rose — 
At mom he springs and spreads space. 

At noon he buds and blows ; 
At eve his fading glory's flown. 

At night he droops ortd dies ; 
The grimlike monster hews him down, 

He falls— no more to rise. 
What ! when sweet vernal roses cease 

The mountain to adoni ; 
When Autumns yield their last increase. 

And Springs no more return ; 


When Ni^t ber diadea neglects to fafl ; 

Light ^arlrTif^ to assiufrc ^ 
Vfheo Tune's worn wheels shall baclcwaid whirl, 

And Nature die of age. 
Ves, awful thoo^t I when earth and seas 

In flaming fire dissolve ; 
When suns and comets cease to blaze. 

And planets to revolve. 
When the last trumpet's dreadful sound 

Reveib'iites thro' the skies. 
Mortals, their sleep e'er so profouDd, 

Shall hear, awake, — and lise ! 



THOMAS RICHMOND was bom in Paisley in 1771. 
He was educated for the medical profession, and commenced 
to practice in Paisley when quite a young man. I find that 
in 1802, Dr. Richmond — along with his medical brethren 
John Whyte, James Kerr, and John Rodman — memorialised 
the managers of the Paisley Dispensary, asking them to set 
up, in addition to that establishment, a "House of 
Recovery." This recommendation was agreed to and 
satisfactorily carried out, and was the commencement of the 
present House of Recovery. Dr. Richmond, after being for 
fifty-eight years a medical practitioner in Paisley, died on 
14th July, 1846, in the seventy-fifth year of his age. At 
that time, he was the oldest medical practitioner in Paisley. 
He cultivated the Muse to some extent, and I give two of 
his effusions which appeared respectively in the " Paisley 
Repository" of 181 2, and in the "New Paisley Repository" 
of 1853. 


When Europe's quarrels, that divide the world, 
Had Britain's banners and her flag unfurFd, 
The Gallic tyrant, frantic with disdain 
That Britain scom'd his base, ignoble chain. 
Had roused her heroes once again to arms 
To meet invasions, threatcnings, and alarms. 
Full oft old Ocean, murmuring from afar, 
Had borne her victor in his sca-l)cat car. 

'^Paisley ReposiUy^y^ No. VI. This periodical contained ** Original 
poetry and songs by Alexander Wilson, John Wilson, Robert Tannahill, 
James King, Sanmcl Cochran, Dr. Thomas Richmond, Dr. William 
Craig, all of I'aislcy." (John Afillar's A^eiv System of ArUhmdU^ 
P- 39^.) John Millar was the editor of the Paisley Repository. 


Her heroes many, and her chiefs renown 'd, 

With naval trophies and with glory crown'd, 

Her Raleighs, Drakes, and each illustrious name 

Inscribed in long and lasting list of fame ; 

"When Egypt's strand deep groan 'd beneath their host, 

And Bruix rode triumphant on her coast. 

Their triumphs glistening but a little while, 

Soon graz'd the glories of the Lord of Nile. 

When leagued ambition reared, in northern wars. 

The Danish standards and the Swedish stars. 

The British hero once again appears 

To bum their fleets and dissipate our fears. 

Hark ! the last, greatest order e'er he gave, 

As British valour rear'd them on the wave ! 

Oh ! 'midst our honoured country's claims 

We wbh to rank among her patriots' names ; 

Write — nay grave it — on our very swords, 

Tell it in deeds, far better than in words. 

Remember, that great Nelson's shade may rest, 

** England expects each man shall do his best." 


Beneath the sultry torrid zone. 

Where Afric's maids their labours ply ; 
Her sons still prize them as their own, 

Love wings the lightning of the eye. 
Beneath the Polar wintry snow, 

Where Greenland's maids their vigils keei>, 
Love tries his quiver, bends his bow, 

And bids his sons to brave the deep. 
And in this temp'rate clime of ours, 

Where all his charms and graces reign ; 
Love smiles to deck the varying hours, 

And claims the world as his domain. 




But Love, they tell us, is delusion. 

And all his power a transient dream ; 
His chains, and sighs, a soft intrusion, 

Upon life's calm and tranquil stream. 
Yet, still I court the airy trav'ller, 

And still invite him to my cell ; 
I'll drink the opiate with the rev'llcr. 

And own the magic of his spell. 



ARCHIBALD FYFE was born in Paisley on the nth 
July, 1772. He learned a mechanical calling, and did not 
in his youth receive a good education. By perseverance, 
however, in reading and studying the poets, he acquired a 
considerable knowledge, and refinement of taste, and dis- 
crimination. As he was very modest, his talents were only 
known to a few. He embarked his all in a mercantile con- 
cern, and unfortunately was unsuccessful. His health after- 
wards began to fail, and he was found to suffer from a severe 
and fatal disorder. He died on 23rd May, 1806, in the 
34th year of his age, leaving a wife and five children in great 
poverty. Fyfe, at his death, had accumulated a consider- 
able amount of manuscript both in prose and verse ; and his 
friends thought that, if a selection of it was made and pub- 
lished, some money might be realised for the benefit of his 
widow and family. Hence the publication of a volume of 
144 pages, duodecimo, under the title of ** Poems and 
Criticisms, by the late Archibald Fyfe, Paisley." He studied 
the best poets in our language, and his criticisms apply to 
Ben Jonson, Dryden, Blackmore, Pope, Blair, Goldsmith, 
Young, Addison, Johnson, Cowper, and Burns. The princi- 
pal part of his poetry is taken up with a description of the 
different months of the year. 1 give three selections : — 

M A V. 

To-day is Nature's jubilee, 
*Tis flow'ry splendour all I see ; 
With livelier plumage shines each wing ; 
With clearer strains the woodlands sing ; 
With beamy ores the hills are sow'd ; 
With daisies are the vales o'ersnow'd. 


Thou, the great Painter of this scene. 
So rich, so various, so serene. 
Among the blessings of my fate, 
None of the meanest do I rate 
The capability and taste. 
Which Thou hast in this bosom placM, 
To admire and relish what Thy hand 
lias wrought of elegant and grand. 
O by the streams may I be led 
Progressive to the fountain-head ; 
Where joy all simile transcends, 
And where sweet May-tide never ends. 


Once more I clasp thee, venerable tree, 

Dear hast thou been from infancy to me ; 

On memory's leaf thy antique shade 

By fancy's vivid limning stands portray'd. 

'1 hy conqu'ring branches raise, in bright array, 

Th* Arabian scenes of youth's romantic day ; 

Stay then, old sorcerer, the visions stay ; 

The prime of manhood's joys thy price shall pay. 

There Nature first my fancy charm'd ; 
No muse but she my feelings warm'd ; 
Here first I found, in tinkling rhyme. 

The jessamine 

And eglantine 
In distich with the sheep-clad hill, 
Conjoin'd the ray- reflecting rill ; 
And when I heard the couplet chime, 
Esteem'd the melody sublime. 




Refulgent Sol the horizon scales, 
And Nature's beauteous face unveils ; 
His glories gild the ancient hills, 
And sparkle in the crystal rills. 
Yet these sweet scenes can nought impart 
To chase grief from my love-sick heart. 

Enlivening blows the ambient breeze, 
Rich verdure decks the waving trees ; 
While songsters from the leafy sprays 
Enchanting carol forth their lays. 
Yet these sweet pleasures cannot start 
One thought to cheer my love-sick heart. 

Adieu ! the mirth-inspiring dance, 
Adieu ! sweet place and circumstance 
My doom is seaFd, my fate is nigh, 
Anne loves some prettier swain than I. 
The cold looks from her eyes that dart 
Will soon strike dead my love-sick heart. 




WILLIAM MCLAREN was born in Paisley in 1772, 
and learned to be a hand loom weaver. He gave himself 
up very much to literary pursuits, and became intimately 
acquainted with Tannahill the Poet. When Tannahill col- 
lected and published his only book of poems and songs in 
1807, it was dedicated to Mr. William McLaren, as follows : — 

" Sir, — With gratitude I reflect on the happy hours we 
have spent together ; and in testimony of the high regard I 
entertain for your many worthy and amiable qualities, I take 
the liberty of inscribing to you this little volume. Several 
of the pieces contained in it you have already seen, and if 
the others afford you any pleasure, it will add much to the 
happiness of. Dear Sir, with true respect and sincerity, your 
friend, Robert Tannahill." 

A club met in Allan Stewart's Sun Tavern, No. 1 2 High 
Street, and both M*Laren and Tannahill were members. 
It was mostly through their influence and energy that the 
Paisley Bums Club was established in 1805. M*Laren was 
appointed president, and at the first meeting delivered an 
eloquent and impassioned address in proposing the memory 
of Burns. Tannahill was the secretary to this club, and the 
first minute of its proceedings is in his own handwriting. 

William M*Laren possessed considerable literary abilities, 
and could write prose and poetry with great force and 
facility. In 181 5, he published the ** Poems and Songs, 
chiefly in the Scottish Dialect," by Tannahill, to which was 
added his ** Address at the First Meeting of the Burns 
Club, on giving the toast of * The Memory of our Immortal 
Bard, Robert Bums.'" In 181 7, he ])ublished, in 4to size 
of 36 pages, " Emma, or the Cruel Father : a Poetical Tale, 


with Other Poems and Songs." In 1818, he published, with 
a memoir, the posthumous poetical works of the poet Scad- 
lock. In 1827, he pubhshed " Isabella, or the Robbers : a 
Poetical Tale of the Olden Times, and other Poems," con- 
sisting of 52 pages. He also had many lyrical pieces of 
considerable merit that appeared in newspapers and 

W. M*Laren commenced business in Ireland at one time, 
but, owing to his extreme politics, he was forced to give it 
up, and return to Paisley. Afterwards he had a public- 
house in Paisley, and thereby improved his circumstances 
very considerably. He died 2nd May, 1832, in the 60th 
year of his age. 

In 1872, when my esteemed friend, Mr. J. J. Lamb, was 
collecting materials to enable him to write a memoir of 
Tannahill, he applied to me to obtain some particulars from 
the Rev. Charles Marshall regarding Mr. M'Laren. 1 did 
so, but when I received them Mr. Lamb was on his death- 
bed. The information I got from Mr. Marshall is very 
interesting. His letter is dated Edinburgh, i8th September, 
1872 : — 

** In answer to yours of the nth, I regret to say that my 
knowledge of William M'Laren is very limited. As to his 
nativity and parentage, I know nothing. You may take it 
for granted, however, as a fact, that he is the same to whom 
Tannahill dedicated his volume of 1807. Of that I have no 
doubt. I first became acquainted with him when I re- 
moved from Edinburgh to Paisley with my father's family in 
the year 181 6. He was originally bred to the loom, but, 
like many others of a literary turn, he did not take kindly to 
his occupation. It was currently reported that he inherited 
from his mother, whose name I think was Scad lock, a con- 
siderable amount of money and property. Having the 
means of prosecuting his studies, he went to Glasgow with 
the intention of attending the University. Whether he ever 
matriculated, or made any progress in academical learning. 


I am unable to say. Be that as it may, I found him to be 
a well-informed man. He was quiet and unobtrusive in 
company ; but when called upon to express his sentiments 
on any subject, he did so with accuracy and graceful preci- 
sion. He weighed his words, and uttered them with great 
clearness and distinctness. His conversation had nothing 
of the florid or the flatulent, but had more of matter of fact 
than of poetical diction. Long before I saw him, all the 
means he once possessed had slipped through his fingers, 
and he was reduced to the necessity of labouring at the loom 
for a subsistence. He was married and had a familv. 

" It is always interesting to know something of the per- 
sonal appearance of the man of whom we speak. William 
M*Laren in early life must have been an eminently hand- 
some man. He was so even in his advanced age, when I 
became ac(iuainted with him. He was above the average 
height, erect, and stately ; compactly and firmly built ; and 
his fine Roman countenance rendered him conspicuous 
among his contemporaries as a man of aristocratic bearing 
and dignity. From his long and painful struggles with 
])overty he was at length relieved by the terrible plague 
which visited this country in the year 1832." 


TMMe—"Lord Gregory." 

And dost thou speak sincere, my love, 

And must we ever part ? 
And dost thou, unrelenting, see 

The anguish of my heart ? 
Have e*er these doting eyes of mine 

One wandering wish expressed ? 
No ; thou alone haft ever been 

Companion of my breast. 

I saw thy face, angelic fair, 

I thought thy form divine, 
I sought thy love — I gave my heart — 

And hoped to concjuer thine. 
But, ah ! delusive, cruel hope I 

Hope now for ever gone ! 
My Mary keeps the heart I gave, • 

But, with it, keeps her own. 


When many smiling summer suns 

Their silver light have shed, 
And wrinkled age in hoary hairs 

Waves lightly o'er my head, — 
Even then, in life's declining hour, 

My heart will fondly trace 
The beauties of thy lovely form 

And sweetly smiling face. 

(Sun^ at the Celebration of the Birth of Burns ^ January ^ iStg. ) 

Howl on ! ye wild winds ! o'er his hallowed grave. 

Their music is sweet to the ear ; 
And lovely the mountains, though mantl'd in snow» 

As the fragrant smile of the year. 
Yes, Winter ! though icicles hang on thy brow, 

And Nature disconsolate mourns ; 
Yet Scotia will ever exult in thy reign, 

For she owes thee the birth of a Burns ! 

When your bellowing tempests, incessant and deep, 

Terrific do howl through the sky. 
Do you visit a spot where his fame is unknown ? 

A spot where 'twill wither and die ? 
Yes, yes ! the bright fame of the bard will decay. 

For Nature itself will expire ; 
But the last lover's song, e'er the wreck of mankind. 

Will echo his heavenly lyre. 


Though the winter of age wreaths her snow on his head. 
And the blooming effulgence of summer is fled ; 
Though the voice that was sweet as the harp's softest string 
Be trem'lous and low as the zephyrs of spring, 
Y'et say not the Bard has turned old. 


Though the casket that holds the rich jewel we prize 
Attracts not the gaze of inquisitive eyes ; 
Yet the gem that's within may be lovely and bright 
As the smiles of the mom or the stars of the night, 
Then say not the Bard has turned old. 

When the tapers bum clear, and the goblet shines bright 
In the hall of the chief on a festival night, 
I have smiled at the glance of his rapturous eye, 
While the brim of the goblet laugh'd back in reply ; 
Then say not the Bard has turned old. 

When he sings of the valorous deeds that were done 
By his clan or his chief, in the days that are gone, 
His strains then are various, now rapid, now slow, 
As he mourns for the dead, or exults o*er the foe ; 
Then say not the Bard has turned old. 

When summer in gaudy profusion is dress 'd, 
And the dewdrop hangs clear on the violet's brcai»t, 
I list with delight to his rapturous strain, 
While the outcoming echo returns it again ; 
Then say not the Bard has turned old. 

But not summer's profusion alone can inspire 
His soul in the song or his hand on the lyre ; 
But rapid his numbers, and wilder they flow, 
When the wintry winds rave o'er the mountains of snow ; 
Then say not the Bard has turned old. 

I have seen him elated when black clouds were riven. 
Terrific and wild, by the thunders of heaven ; 
And smile at the billows that angrily rave. 
Incessant and deep, o'er the mariner's grave : 
Then say not the Bard has turned old. 

When the eye that expresses the warmth of his heart 
Shall fail the benevolent to impart — 
When his blood shall be cold as the wintry wave. 
And silent his harp as the gloom of the grave, — 
Then bay that the Bard has turned old. 




Have you seen the old tree that stands lone on the moor, 

With its branches all withered and bare, 
Like a life- wearied wTetch who keenly has felt 

The torturing pangs of despair ? 

Tho' the rank grass wave wild o'er the spot where they stood, 

Yet three kindly companions it knew, 
Who exultingly spread their gay leaves to the sun 

And drank of the nourishing dew. 

So broad were their boughs and so fresh were their leaves, 

And so kindly they mingled together, 
That they dreamed not the sorrowful day was so near 

That would part them in anguish for ever. 

But a blast from the heath, like a fiat of Fate, 

Gave the loftiest tree to the wind,^ 
And left the disconsolate friends of its youth 

To linger in sadness behind. 

Soon the canker of care, like a worm in the bud. 

Seized the tree that grew close by its side ;^ 
And its green leaves grew pale and its branches were few, 

And it sickened, and withered, and died. 

But the envious shaft that had destined their fate. 

Had not finished the work it began. 
For a poison was fixed in another fair tree,^ 

And its span of existence is run. 

And now the old tree that stands lone on the moor. 

With its branches all withered and bare. 
In solitude mourns for the friends of its youth, 

The victim of anxious despair. 

The foregoing was written after the last of the three of 
the author's most intimate friends died. 

* Tannahill. * Scadlock. 

* William Anderson, one of the founders of the Paisley Bums Club. 




ALEXANDER BORLAND was born in Causeyside 
Street, Paisley, in 1773. He learned the trade of a hand- 
loom weaver. He was on intimate terms with James King, 
a brother poet, and he became acquainted also with Tanna- 
hill. Borland joined the Lanarkshire Militia, and the regi- 
ment was sent to England. At the close of his terra of ser- 
vice, he went to reside in Glasgow, where Tannahill called 
on him on the afternoon of the i6th May, 1810, and Bor- 
land found him to be speaking so very incoherently that he 
walked home to Paisley with him. It was during that night 
that Tannahill put an end to his existence. In 18 19, 
Alexander Borland, after residing in Lochwinnoch for a 
year, came to Paisley. After living there for many years, he 
returned to Glasgow, where he died in 1828, aged 55 years. 
Alexander Borland courted the muse, and I give an ode 
which he composed to the memory of his departed poetical 
friend. In 1806, Tannahill addressed to Alexander Borland 
a poetical piece of some length, commencing, " Retired, 
disgusted with the tavern roar." This Alexander Borland 
must not be confounded with another Alexander Borland, 
bom in 1793, who was likewise a poet. 

O.N THE Death ok Ta.nnahill, of Paisley, the Celebrated 

Composer of Scottish Songs. 

By Alexander Borland, 

Unwelcome sound, that strikes my listening ear, 
That makes my eyes o'erflow with pity's tear — 
A sound that doth my mind of mirth bereave. 
With sighs of sorrow makes my bosom heave : 
The last sad tribute that a friend can pay 
To merit, mould'ring with the common clay. 


The Muse's fev'rite, Scotland may deplore. 
Her son, her songster, TannahiU's no more ; 
He on whom Fame so oft. complacent smil'd. 
Whom genius marked as her fav*rite child ; 
He who so skilful blew the pipe and horn. 
Resistless Fate's for ever from us torn ! 

Ah ! black disease, that in his bosom pin'd, 

A hidden demon, to distract his mind ; 

And dire despair, that base infernal tool. 

That drove him senseless to the fatal pool, 

And left the world to mourn his hapless fate, 

And glow with sympathy when too, too late. 

Thus merit oft unto the world is lost. 

Before the world ere calculates its cost. 

Vain, vain, to think to soothe the Poet's grief, 

When past all human power to yield relief ; 

Like metal that runs off and leaves but dross. 

So thoughtless man too late perceives his loss ; 

Ev*n sorrow now doth many bosoms fill, 

Who never thought before of Tannahill. 

Now safely moor*d beyond life's stormy main, 

His native isle his mem'ry shall retain ; 

Exulting in his sweet harmonious strains, 

Long shall his music float on Scotia's plains ; 

While Scottbh songs to Scotland are endear'd, 

The name of Tannahill will be revered. 

Songs (free from chains the servile Muses bind) 

Flow*d from his heart — to hearts of dull mankind. 

Now all is hush'd since its bright spirit's flown 

To heav'nly spheres, to care and death unknown. 

Perhaps where some transporting zephyr blows. 

Where grief doth smile, and friendship's fragrance flows, 

In some blest shades, beyond life's stormy wave, 

Des[>air grows mild, — distractions cease to rave. 

Let candour then be just unto his praise, 

Nor slander rob him of his well-won bays ; 

May round his grave bright laurels ever bloom, 

And be his virtues grav'd upon his tomb ; 

His faults be plac'd to Nature and to man, 

Well imitate his virtues—if we can. 



ROBERT TANNAHILL'S life has been so frequently 
and so well written, that my devoting a chapter here to this 
remarkable man is only meant to give the general reader an 
oudine of his memoir. Robert Tannahill, the premier poet 
of Paisley, whose father was a handloom weaver, was born 
on 3rd June, 1774, at what is now No. 32 Castle Street, 
Paisley, where a memorial-tablet stone was placed in the 
front wall of the house in 1872, after a number of gentlemen 
had made the necessary inquiries as to the place of his birth. 
The poet's father bought a steading of ground in Queen 
Street, and erected thereon a thatched cottage of one storey, 
the north-end being used as a dwelling-house and the south 
part as a handloom weaver's shop. This property is now 
No. 6 Queen Street, and the owner is Miss Mary Crichton. 

In early life, Tannahill was sent to an English school, 
where he received an education like those in his own posi- 
tion in life. After leaving school, he was apprenticed under 
his father for five years to learn handloom weaving. Before 
this period had expired, his poetic sympathies had com- 
menced to develop, and he then earnestly read every 
poetical composition upon which he could lay his hands. 
So bashful was he, and so much afraid that his poetical pro- 
ductions would be severely criticised, that they were brought 
anonymously before the public. While, however, writing 
love songs about others, he himself became engaged to a 
female acquaintance ; but she, finding that the bard did 
nothing to promote a happy consummation, became attached 
to another suitor. His pride was thereby hurt, and he be- 
came angry and reproached her, and the matter terminated 
by his composing the verses beginning with — ** Accuse me 


not, inconstant feir, of being false to thee." This, states 
M*Laren, who was intimately acquainted with Tannahill, 
was the only amour in which he was engaged. In 1800, 
Tannahill and an acquaintance went to Bolton, in Lanca- 
shire, where they remained till about the middle of 1802. 
Tannahill, then, hearing that his father was unwell, returned 
to Paisley. His father died shortly afterwards. I next find 
him joining a weekly club, the members of which highly 
esteemed him because he was a poet, for he had no conver- 
sational powers. His spare time was now absorbed by his 
poetic muse. Beside his loom he had writing materials to 
enable him to record any ideas that might occur to him 
when at work. He also had learned to play on the German 
flute, and could with it regulate the airs and tunes. Not 
having attached himself to any church, he wandered about 
on the Sundays to examine nature in all its varied phases. 
Forming an acquaintanceship with Mr. R. A. Smith, the 
celebrated musician, he derived from him much information 
and encouragement in the composition of lyric poetry. This 
was an important era in the lifetime of the bard. 

By the year 1805 he had accumulated many poetical 
pieces, and his friends advised him to have them published. 
This proposal he carried out in a volume of 175 pages in 
1807. There were 900 copies printed, and all were sold in 
a few weeks. He was now at the height of his fame, and 
heard his songs sung everywhere. But still he was meeting 
occasionally with persons who depreciated his muse. He 
prepared another volume for the press ; but Mr. A. Con- 
stable, Edinburgh, the publisher, to whom the MS. was 
offered, returned it without looking into it, stating that he 
had more work on hand than he could accomplish. This 
was the severest blow the poet ever met with. Other insults, 
imaginary or real, followed. The strain was too great for 
his nervous system ♦^o bear, and during an attack of tem- 


porary insanity he ended his life by drowning himself, on 
17th May, 1810, in the south end of the conduit that leads 
the Candren Bum under the Canal at Maxwelton, and 
known to this day as " Tannahill's Hole." When Tanna- 
hill died he had ;^2o at his credit in a bank.^ 

Tannahill's remains were interred in the burying-ground 
connected with the West Relief Church, but it was not till 
1866 that the granite obelisk was erected which marks out 
his grave. 

The centenary of the birth of the poet, on 3rd June, 1873, 
was celebrated by all classes of his townsmen, and I take 
the following account of it from my ** History of Paisley," 
vol. II., page 417 : — 

** There was, first of all, a procession to Gleniffer Braes, 

* Unfortunately, no portrait of Tannahill of any kind was taken 
during his lifetime. But, the day after his death, Mr. John Morton, 
manufacturer, a very intimate acquaintance of the poet's, drew a like- 
ness of the deceased. The first copperplate engraving of this portrait 
appeared as the frontispiece of the '* Harp of Renfrewshire," published 
in 1 819, and is considered to be a good portrait of the great poet. Mr. 
John Morton was a native of Paisley, and was bom in 1775. After re- 
ceiving his education at school, he leame<l the craft of a handloom 
w^eaver. As time passed on, he became a ** general genius," possessing 
considerable taste for portrait and landscape painting and mechanics. 
In 1 818, he commenced business as a manufacturer in Paisley, and was 
so successful as to be able to retire in 1832, in possession of a moderate 
competency for the support of himself and his wife. They had no 
family. On the west side of the west bay of Dunoon, he erected a 
handsome cottage, which he called Marchfield, and much of the wood- 
work of it was prepared by his own hands. He, at his leisure, indulged 
his taste there in many ingenious ways. My family and I occupied his 
cottage for a part of the summer of 1849, and 1 had therefore many op- 
portunities o! meeting with this simple, ingenious man. While we 
lived there he occupied a small house at the end of the cottage. At 
this time he was busily engaged in learning and practising the daguereo- 
type process of taking portraits. He had a view of Paisley hung up in 
his principal room, sketched by himself, taken from the high building. 
No. 7 Oakshaw Street, on the site now occupied by the Academy ad- 
joining the Grammar School. I well remember I admired it very much, 
and although I had not at that time any great predilection for archaeo- 
logical collections, yet I wished I could become its possessor. Mr. 
Morton died 30th September, 185 1, aged 75 years. 


where some of his best songs were sung by a powerful choir, 
composed for the most part of male voices. The proces- 
sion, which consisted of many of the different trades of the 
town and others, assembled in St. James Street, and was 
marshalled by Superintendent Sutherland on horseback, 
accompanied by 1 50 horsemen. It went through different 
parts of the town ; and in passing the birth-place of the poet 
in Castle Street, and the house in which he resided in 
Queen Street, the processionists uncovered their heads. 
Numerous devices of flowers and evergreens, along with 
flags and mottoes, decorated the houses and streets along 
the line of march. The processionists and others assembled 
on the plateau of the Gleniffer Hills, near the Gushing Linn, 
where a platform was erected. After a short address from 
Provost Murray, and a vote of thanks to Mr. Fulton for the 
use of the grounds, several of Tannahill's songs were sung 
by the choir with delightful effect. The weather being par- 
ticularly fine, the numerous assemblage, which was estimated 
at from 15,000 to 20,000, had a grand opportunity of amus- 
ing themselves on the Braes, and of admiring the un- 
equalled scenery which for miles stretches along the valley 
beneath. In the afternoon, a hundred gentlemen dined in 
the Abercom Rooms — the Provost presiding ; and in the 
evening there was a numerously-attended musical soiree in 
the Drill Hall — Mr. Thomas Coats of Ferguslie in the chair. 
Several other agreeable social parties were held throughout 
the town, all with one object in view — the honouring of the 
memory of Tannahill." 

Concerts were commenced in 1876 on Gleniffer Braes, in 
memory of the poet and as a pleasant recreation to his ad- 
mirers. The crowds, however, which attended them be- 
came so great, that a charge was made, to put some check 
upon the numbers that came forward. The committee of 
management afterwards wisely resolved that these concerts 
should be made the means of raising money for the erection 
of a memorial to the poet. The number of persons who 
attended each of the eight concerts from 1876 to 1883 
varied from 10,000 to 30,000. The charge for admission to 



these concerts was at first one penny; it was afterwards 
raised to sixpence, for which value was given in a book 
having a programme of the proceedings and the music sung 
at the concerts. In 1881, when the funds raised amounted 
to ;^8oo, the committee having charge of these concerts 
elected twelve gentlemen of a representative character to 
advise with them as to the kind of memorial that should be 
adopted.^ These gentlemen resolved that a bronze statue 
of the poet should be placed upon a granite pedestal, to be 
erected in the Abbey burying-ground, near to the statue 
placed there to the memory of Alexander Wilson. Pre- 
miums for models were offered, and that of Mr. D. W. 
Stevenson, A.R.S.A., sculptor, Edinburgh, was selected out 
of the eleven sent in by competitors. The statue and 
pedestal cost about ^1000, and was unveiled in presence of 
an immense assemblage on 20th October, 1883. The 
bronze statue is seven feet high, and the das-re/ie/ o( bronze 
in the front of the pedestal represents three Scotch lasses, 
the central one singing a ballad, while the others lean upon 
her, — the whole treatment of the subject being an illustra- 
tion of that incident in TannahilFs biography where it is re- 
lated that, while he was taking a solitary walk in the 
country, his musings were interrupted by hearing a girl sing- 

' The Statue Committee was thus constituted on 2rst September, 
1881, by the Anniversary Committee adding to their number twelve 
gentlemen, selected as follows : — Three from the Town Council, viz. — 
Provost MacKean, Treasurer Clark, and Bailie Cochran ; three from 
the Tannahill Club, viz. — Messrs. Thomas Walker, George Hart, and 
John Johnston ; three from the Art Institute, viz. — Messrs. James 
Caldwell, John Fullarton, and Charles Hayes ; three from the General 
Public, viz. — Ex-Provost Brown, Dr. Richmond, and P. C. Macgregor. 
The Anniversary Committee consisted of — Messrs. T. B. M'L^nnan, 
R. K. Bell, J. R. Fraser. H. Brown, George Dick, James Barr, R. M. 
Paterson, William Peattic, James Fleming, \\. B. M'Lennan, Robert 
Greenlees, Daniel Wilson, James M'Kean, David JJrycc, James Fulton, 
and E. T. Hoeck. Office- Bearers of Statue Committee— -Provost Mac- 
Kean, chairman ; William Peattie, secretary ; Hugh Brown, treasurer. 


ing in an adjoining field his own song of ** Well meet beside 
the dusky glen, on yon bumside." The erection of this 
monument reflects the greatest honour on the numerous 
members of the choir and their leader, Mr. J. Roy Fraser, at 
the concerts on Gleniffer Braes, on the committee of manage- 
ment, and all concerned. 

The reader is further referred to the work of the late Mr. 
David Semple, published in 1875, which gives the most ex- 
haustive account of all matters relating to Tannahill.^ 

Of the numerous delightful lyric pieces of poetry written 
by Tannahill, Paisley's illustrious bard, I give the following: — 


Aif — " Bonnie Dundee." 

Keen blaws the wind o'er the Braes o' Gleniffer, 

The auld castle's turrets are cover'd wi' snaw ; 
How changed frae the time when I met wi' my lover 

Amang the broom bushes by Stanely-green shaw ! 
The wild flowers o' summer were spread a' sae bonnie, 

The mavis sang sweet frae the green birkcn tree ; 
But far to the camp they ha'e marched my dear Johnnie, 

An now it is winter wi' Nature and me. 

Then ilk thing around us was blythesome and cheery, 

Then ilk thing around us was bonnie and braw ; 
Now naething is heard but the wind whistling dreary, 

And naething is seen but the wide-spreading snaw. 
The trees are a' bare, and the birds mute and dowie, 

They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee, 
And chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my Johnnie, — 

*Tis winter wV them, and 'tis winter wi' me. 

The cauld sleety cloud skiffs alang the bleak mountain. 
And shakes the dark firs on the stey rocky brae, 

While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountain, 
That munnur'd sae sweet to my laddie and me. 

^ Mr. Semple died at his dwelling-house, Townhcad, Paisley, on 
23rd December, 1878, in the 71st year of his age. 


*Tis no its loud roar on the wintry wind swelling 
'Tis no the cauld blast that brings tears t' my ee 

For, O, gin I saw but my bonny Scots callan, 
The dark days o' winter were summer to me ! 

Air — " Lord Balgunie*s Favourite." 

Gloomy wnter's noo awa\ 
Siift the wastlin' breezes blaw, 
*Mang the birks of Stanely shaw 

The mavis sings fu' cheery, O ! 
Sweet the crawflower's early bell 
Decks Gleniffer's dewy dell, 
Blooming like thy bonnie sel'. 

My young, my artless dearie, O ! 

Come, my lassie, let us stray 
O'er Glenkilloch's sunny brae, 
Blythely spend the gouden day 

*Midst joys that never weary, O ! 
Towering o'er the Newton woods 
Laverocks fan the snaw-white cluds, 
Siller saughs, wi' downie buds. 

Adorn the banks sae briery, O ! 

Round the sylvan fairy nooks 
Feathery brackens fringe the rocks, 
'Neath the brae the bumie jouks. 

And ilka thing is cheery, O ! 
Trees may bud, and birds may sing. 
Flowers may bloom, and verdure spring, 
Joy to me they dinna' bring. 

Unless wi' thee, my dearie, O ! 


Thou bonnie wood o' Craigie Lea ! 
Thou bonnie wood o' Craigie Lea ! 
Near thee I pass'd life's early day. 
And won my Mary's heart in thee. 


The broom, the brier, the birken bush 

Bloom bomiie o*er thy flowery lea, 
And a* the sweets that ane can wish 

Frae Nature's hand, are strewed on thee. 

Thou bonnie wood, &c. 

Far ben thy dark green plantin's shade 

The cushat croodles am'rously ; 
The mavis, down thy bughted glade, 

Gars echo ring frae every tree. 

Thou bonnie wood, &c. 

Awa*, ye thoughtless, murdering gang, 

Wha tear the nestlings ere they flee ! 
They'll sing you yet a canty sang, 

Then, O ! in pity let them be ! 

Thou bonnie wood, &c. 

When winter blaws in sleety showers 

Frae aff the Norlan' hills sac hie. 
He lightly skiffs thy bonnie bowers, 

As laith to harm a flower in thee. 

Thou bonnie wood, &c. 

Though Fate should drag me south the line, 

Or o'er the wide Atlantic sea. 
The happy hours I'll ever mind 

That I, in youth, hae spent in thee. 

Thou bonnie wood, &c. 


Far lone amang the Highland hills. 

Midst Nature's wildest grandeur, 
By rocky dens, and woody glens, 

With weary step I wander ; 
The langsome way, the darksome day. 

The mountain mist sae rainy, 
Are nought to me when gaun to thee, 

Sweet lass o' Arranteenie. 


Yon mossy rosebud down the howe, 

Just op*ning fresh and bonnie, 
Blinks sweetly 'neath the hazel bough, 

And *s scarcely seen by ony. 
Sae sweet, amidst her native hills, 

Obscurely blooms my Jeanie ; 
Mair fair and gay than rosy May, 

The flower o' Arranteenie. 

Now, from the mountain's lofty brow, 

I view the distant ocean, — 
There av'rice guides the bounding prow, 

Ambition courts promotion : 
Let fortune pour her golden store. 

Her laurell'd favours many, 
Give me but this, my soul's first wish, 

The lass o* Arranteenie, 


The sun has gane doun o*cr the lofty Benlomond, 
And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene, 

While lanely I stray in the calm simmer gloaming, 
To muse on sweet Jessie, the flower o* Dunblane. 

How sweet is the brier wi' its soft-faulding blossom. 
And sweet is the birk wi' its mantle o' green ; 

Yet sweeter, and fairer, and dear to this bosom. 
Is lovely young Jessie, the flower o' Dunblane. 

She's modest as ony, and blythe as she*s bonny. 
For guileless simplicity marks her its ain ; 

And far be the villain divested o' feeling 

Wha'd blight in its bloom the sweet flower o' Dunblane. 

Sing on, then, sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e'enin', 
TTiou'rt dear to the echoes o' Calderwood Glen ; 

Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winnin', 
Is charming young Jessie, the flower o' Dtmblane. 



How lost were my days till I met wi* my Jessie, 
The sports o' the city seemed foolish and vain, 

I ne'er saw a n3rmph I would ca* my dear lassie 
Till charmed wi' sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dunblane. 

Tho' mine were the station o' loftiest grandeur, 
Amidst its profusion I'd languish in pain, 

And reckon as naething the heicht o' its splendour 
If wantin' sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dunblane.^ 

* The song of " Jessie, the Flower o' Dunblane " Ls alleged by some 
writers to represent the female with whom Tannahill fell in love, and 
that she lived in Dunblane. I take the following from the Paisley 
Advertiser q{ T^xh. October, 1835, which appeared from a correspondent 
in the Musical Magazine for that month : — ** Some sixteen or seventeen 
years ago, I had occasion to visit Dunblane, and, finding my host com- 
municative, 1 inquired if he ever knew anything of Jessie. To my 
astonishment, he told me that, if I did not mind the expense of a 
mutchkin or two of whisky, he would send for her, as a drap of clew was 
at any time an introduction to acquaintance. I had some difficulty in 
reconciling ray ideas of Tannahill's flower with the elderly lady smoking 
a black ctitty pipe, drinking whisky, and wishing my health in broad 
Scotch ; but all the angels seen by love-sick poets have undergone 
similar change, if we except the pipe and pot. She seemed flattered by 
the notoriety bestowed upon her by the poet ; yet * Daft Rab Tanna- 
hill * seemed to hold no more place in her estimation than he had in 
life. I afterwards learned that her beauty had gained her admirer^ of 
a wealthier class than the poor poet, and probably this song increased 
the number. The consequence was a numerous offspring but no 

husliand. " Tannahill never was in Dunblane ; and this woman was, 

of course, a fraud. Tannahill's Jessie in the song, I am satisfied, was 
purely imaginary. 



JAMES SCADLOCK, whose father was a weaver, was 
born in Paisley on the 7th of October, 1775. When Scad- 
lock had finished his limited education, he was apprenticed 
to his father to learn to be a weaver ; but before the end of 
the first year he left the weaving business, and was appren- 
ticed to a person who carried on the trade of a bookbinder 
and stationer. * This firm becoming unsuccessful in business, 
he was thrown out of employment. At this time he became 
an enthusiastic admirer of the poetic muse, and presented 
his youthful friends with poetry founded on the authors of 
the books he had been reading and admiring. In 1793 he 
became so enamoured with the principles enunciated by the 
friends of the French Revolution, that he composed a 
Republican song, which pleased the supporters of that 

Drawing had always been a favourite amusement of Scad- 
lock's, and his father, being anxious to allow him an oppor- 
tunity to gratify his taste, got him apprenticed for seven 
years to be a copperplate engraver with the firm of Find- 
lay, Ure, Bryce, & Co., printers, Fereneze. This was a long' 
period to endure in comparative poverty ; but, besides his 
daily labours, he kept himself busy with his favourite muse. 
On the nth June, 1801, he completed his long apprentice- 
ship, but he continued with the firm as a journeyman, at an 
increased salary. 

About this time he became acquainted with Tannahill, 
and their friendship continued uninterrupted till the death 
of the great poet. To his favourite studies of poetry and 
painting he at this time added French and I^tin. But mis- 
fortunes overtook him in an unexpected way. A general 


depression of trade commenced at this period, and he was 
warned by his employers that his services were no longer 
required. He applied unsuccessfully to almost every printer 
in the country for employment, and was about to give up 
hopes of obtaining employment in despair, when he received 
an offer of a situation from a firm in Perth. He remained 
there about a year, and afterwards returned to his former 
employers. In April, 1808, he married Mary Ewing, the 
daughter of a respectable workman at the same " field " 
with himself. He now became more domesticated .and 
settled in life, and was always engaged in acts of kindness, 
such as teaching the children of his poorer neighbours to 
read or some favourite friend to draw. 

In the society of Tannahill he formed a close intimacy 
with R. A. Smith and William Stewart. Scadlock attended 
sedulously to the education of his own children, and as a 
member of the Church of Scotland instilled into their minds 
the moral and religious duties of life. 

His employers having given up business, he obtained a 
pennanent situation in Glasgow, and was about to enter it 
when he was seized with typhus fever, and died on 4th July, 
18 1 8, in the 43rd year of his age, leaving a wife and four 
children to lament their loss. James Scadlock was greatly 
respected by his neighbours and all who knew him, and he 
lived and died without an enemy in the world. 

In April, 1803, when Scadlock was residing in Perth, he 
received a poetical epistle from Tannahill (see D. Semple's 
edition, p. 84). In June, 1804, Scadlock received a second 
poetical epistle from Tannahill (see D. Semple's edition, 
p. 99). Two of the best verses of this epistle are as follows : — 

Yet while life's bellows bear to blaw, 
Till life's last lang-fetched breath I draw, 

ril aften fondly think on you, 

And mind your kindness a'. 


Now farc-ye-weel ! still may ye find 
A friend congenial to your mind, 

To share your joys, and halve your woes — 

Warm, sympathising, kind. 

Scadlock at two different periods addressed a poetical 
epistle to Tannahill, and these appear in Scadlock's 
posthumous works, at pages 9 and 45. 

After the death of Tannahill, James Scadlock composed a 
dirge to his memory (see p. 82 of Scadlock's works), and it 
was set to music by R. A. Smith. His poetical pieces were 
collected and published by Mr. McLaren in 181 8, under the 
title of ** The Posthumous Works of James Scadlock : 
Poems, Songs, Odes, and other Poetical Pieces, with a 
Sketch of the Author's Life." 


At twilight grey as forth I roam. 

Along Tay's limpid stream, 
Tho' far from friends and native home, 

Hope holds a distant gleam. 

Enchanting nymph I whene'er I stray, 

By bank or broomy braes. 
Still lead me through each devious way, 

And cheer me with thy rays. 

When fell disease invades my breast, 

And death stands at my door. 
Still let my heart with thee be blessed. 

In that distracting hour. 

When dissolution slow appears. 

And reason yields her seat, — 
When friends around, in silent tears, 

Bemoan my early fate, — 

Still may thy influence o'er my mind 

Present a brighter day. 
And warm my heart to human kind. 

Till light and life decay. 



One summer eve, retired, I lay 

Beneath a fragrant beachen shade, 
Charmed with the fish that sportive play 

Along sweet Levem's^ rocky bed. 
No skilful angler to betray 

The speckled trout — pride of the stream 
That leaping catch their insect prey, 

Which on the mazy surface skim. 
Pure rivulet ! long mayst thou run, 

In many windings through the mead, 
Still may the fish, at setting sun, 

Leap freely o'er thy rocky bed. 
Scenes such as these oft make me tread 

Thy rugged banks with verdure clad. 


All hail ! ye dear romantic scenes, 

Where oft, as eve stole o'er the sky, 
Ye've found me by the mountain stream, 

Where blooming wild flowers charm the eye. 

^ The Levem river, which runs nearly through the centre of the parish 
of Neilston, has its source in the Long Loch, about four miles alx)ve the 
village of Neilston, and enters the River Cart near Cruickston Castle, 
after having travelled about twenty miles. The tributary streams 
which join the Levcrn in its course are important, being the Kirkton, 
Walton, Brock, Cowdenha* Bum, Killoch Burn, and the Wee Burn. 
Numerous works of great importance, which give employment to many 
people, are situated in close proximity to the Levern and to most of 
its tributaries. The orthography of the Levern has varied somewhat, 
being Lavem, Laveran, and at present Leveni. It is supposed to be 
derived from the Lavtrnani, a tribe of ancient Britons mentioned in 

* In my schoolboy days I very frequently visited this delightful little 
glen. But there are, in fact, two glens— the upper and lower glen, 
about two hundred yards apart, where the Killoch Bum has no deep 
rocky margin, and the land is in pasture down to the water edges on 
both sides. The Rev. Alexander Fleming, in his description of the 


The sun's now setting in the west, 
Mild are his beams on hill and plain, 

No sound is heard save Killoch Burn, 
Wild murmuring down its woody glen. 

Green be thy banks, thou silver stream, 
That winds the Fer'neze braes amang, 

Where oft I woo'd the Scottish muse. 
And, raptured, wove the rustic sang. 


Hark, hark, the skylark singing. 
While the early clouds are bringing 
Fragrance on their wings ; 

parish of Neilston in the *' Statistical Account of Scotland," publishc*d 
m 1845, in writing about cascades on different streams, states that ** the 
loveliest of these are those at Killoch Glen. There, in perfect minia- 
ture, are seen the three falls on the Clyde —Bonnyton, Corra, and 
Stonebyres " (Vol. vii., p. 317.) The linn or pool at the cascade in 
the upper glen is of some size, and may be about thirty feet long, 
fifteen feet broad, and four or five feet deep. In the summer time, men 
from the public works in the I>evem district, about sixty years ago, 
visited Killoch Glen on the Sab!)aih Day, and an immense number of 
them batheil in this pond. I frequently myself, on Saturday afternoons, 
in a part of the bum of less depth, — 

" My youthful limbs was wont to lave." 

The great delight to me in the upper glen at the proper season was the 
gathering of hazel nuts, which grew high up in the crevices of the rocks, 
and were very rich in ciuality. On the south side of the upper glen 
there was a footpath among the trees. The lowest cascade and linn 
in the lower glen is much sheltered with trees and bushes, and is smaller 
in size than the one in the upper glen. The footpath over Gleniflfer 
Braes to Paisley by the " Kissing Tree " and ** Kissing Well " com- 
mences on the east side of the lower glen, and, after passing some dis- 
tance, a diverging footpath goes along the north side of the Tower glen, 
among trees ancl bushes, giving the visitor an opportunity of seeing the 
mid-falls and the stream dashing along the rocky declivity. There is a 
tradition that Scadlock, the poet, who lived in the neighbourhood, often 
visited this glen along with 'fannahill. In the interview which Hugh 
Macdonald had with *' Christopher North " (Life of Macdonald, p. 15), 
the Professor, speaking of the killoch Glen, said, "he knew that sweet 
little glen." 


Still, still on high he's soaring, 
Through the liquid haze exploring, 

Fainter now he sings. 
Where the purple dawn is breaking, 

Fast approaches morning's ray, 
From his wings the dew he's shaking, 

As he joyful hails the day. 
While echo, from his slumbers waking, 

Imitates his lay. 

See, see, the ruddy morning, 
With his blushing locks adorning 

Mountain, wood, and vale ; 
Clear, clear the dewdrops glancing, 
As the rising sun*s advancing 

O'er the eastern hill. 
Now the distant summit's clearing, 

As the vapours steal their way, 
And his heath-clad breast's appearing, 

Tinged with Phoebus' golden ray ; 
Far dovm the glen the blackbird's cheering 

Morning with her lay. 

Come, then, let us be straying, 
Where the hazel boughs are playing, 

O'er yon summits grey ; 
Mild now the breeze is blowing, 
And the crystal streamlet's flowing. 

Gently on its way. 
On its banks the wild rose springing, 

Welcomes in the sunny ray, 
Wet with dew its head is hinging. 

Bending low the prickly spray. 
Then haste, my love, while birds are singing, 

To the new-bom day. 



DR. JAMES MUIR was born in Kilmarnock in 1775. 
After attending the Grammar School there, he went to ihe 
University of Glasgow and afterwards to the University of 
Edinburgh. He studied at first for the ministry, but he 
abandoned that project and studied for the medical profession. 
At this time, the future Dr. Watt,^ the celebrated author of 

* Robert Watt, M.D., was born in May, 1774, at the farm called 
Muirhcad, in the parish of Stewarton, possessed by his father, John 
Watt. This small farm had belonged to the family for several genera- 
tions. Robert, the youngest of three sons, was sent to school when six 
years of age, and learned to read English, to write, and to count. He and 
his brothers assisted their father in the farm. As his father's means 
were limited, Robert, when thirteen years of age, became ploughboy 
to a farmer in a neighbouring parish, and afterwards went with a party 
to Galloway to build stone dykes and work at the fonnation of a road 
from Dumfries to Sanquhar. He also worked for sometime in Dumfries, 
and, as stated in a letter to a friend, he *' had frequent opportunities of 
seeing Burns, but could not recollect of having any opinion of him 
except that he was an extraordinary character." It was at this period 
he commenced to read extensively, and this was the beginning of his 
literary pursuits. On returning home, the first use he made of the 
money he had saved was to purchase a copy of ** Bailey's Dictionary " and 
a copy of "Burns's English Grammar.' His brother John, who had 
learned in Glasgow to be a joiner and cabinetmaker, commenced 
business in the country, and Robert joined him as a partner. This 
brother had formed a close intimacy with a college student in Glasgow, 
who came to visit them, and told Robert of the wonderful things done 
at the college. This had the effect of turning the whole bent of his 
mind, and he formed the determination of going there also. He applied 
at once a part of his time and earnings 10 learn at a local school the 
Latin and Greek languages, and in 1793, when he was eighteen years of 
age, he matriculated in Glasgow College and remained till 1797. In 
the summer recess, he supported himself first as a private tutor, and 
afterwards he had a small public sclu)ol in the village of Symington. 
On entering College, his intention was to follow the clerical profession ; 
but after attending two sessions in the Divinity Hall, Cilaxgow, he 
resolved to study for the medical profeNsion, and went to Edinburgh to 
attend the famed medical classes there. In 1799 he returned to 
Glasgow, and after undergoing his examination received his diploma. 
As already statetl, he set up as a surgeon in the town of Paisley ; and 


the " Biblioiheca Britannica," was attending the same 
classes, and the result was that they became intimately 
acquainted. Dr. Watt was the first to obtain his diploma, 
and he commenced business in Smithhills Street, Paisley, 
near to the Old Bridge. Dr. Watt's practice increased so 

notwithstanding his extensive practice, he managed to find sufficient 
time to write a work entitled *'An Abstract of Philosophical Con- 
jectares : or an Attempt to Explain the Principal Phenomena of Light, 
Heat, and Cold, by a few Simple Obvious Laws." But this work was 
never printed. He, however, published a work in 1808 of 328 pages 
8vo., entitled ** Cases of Diabetes, Consumption, &c., with Observations 
on the History and Treatment of Disease in General." This work was 
printed by Stephen Young, Paisley, and dedicatetl *'To Mr. James 
Muir, Surgeon, by his Partner and Friend, the * Author.' " Dr. Watt's 
ambition led him to have a strong desire to leave I'aisley and commence 
for himself on a higher scale than he had hitherto attempted. With 
that view, after visiting most of the chief places in England, he resolved 
on settling in Glasgow. At this time, he received from the University 
of Aberdeen the title of Doctor of Medicine, and was elected a Meml)er 
of the Faculty of Physicians and Surgeons, Glasgow. Dr. Watt, in 
1810, left Paisley for Glasgow, and in 1812 there appeared in the 
Glasgow newspapers an advertisement of which the following is a copy : 
— *' Dr. R<»bert Watt will commence his W' inter Course of lycctures on 
the Principles and Practice of Medicine^ on Wednesday, 4th November, 
at half eight and ten in the morning. 60 Queen Street, 13th October, 
1812." And in 1814 appeared an advertisement somewhat similar. 
His practice as a physician was most successful, and his lectures were 
popular and well-attended. He published several medical books, hut 
kis> great work was his ** Bibliotheca hritannica : or a General Index to 
British and Foreign Literature. In Two Parts — Authors and Subjects." 
About this time, his health began to fail owing to some severe stomach 
disorder. In 181 7, from this cause, he was compelled to discontinue 
his professional pursuits. He retired with his family to a small country 
house about two miles from Gla.sgow, and this arrangement also gave 
him quietness to prosecute his great work. He died on 12th March, 
1819, when only forty-five years of age. Dr. Watt when in Paisley 
married Miss Hums, the daughter of a farmer in his father's neighbour- 
hood. At his death, the publication of the * * Bibliotheca " was carried on 
by his two eldest sons, and the printing was completed in 1824. Messrs. 
Archibald Constable ik. Co., Edinburgh, purchased the whole for about 
£2000, granting bills in payment of the same, but that firm failed before 
any of them matured. The manuscript of this great work was presented 
to the Reference Department of the Paisley Free Library by Mr. 
Thomas Coats of Ferguslie. It consists of fifty-four thick small quarto 
volumes relating to the names of Authors and fourteen volumes relating 
to "Subjects." 


quickly that in 1801 be got Mr. Muir, who had then also 
received his diploma, to become his co-partner. In 1810, 
Dr. Muir married a daughter of Mr. Daniel M*Farlane, 
Canal Bank, Paisley. 

Dr. Muir died at Paisley on 23rd July, 1815, after a 
severe and protracted illness. He possessed a cultured 
mind, and wrote a great deal of prose and poetry, and was 
also a good painter. He wrote a Hfe of Tannahill. There 
likewise came from his pen, and were published, " The Chief 
Priest of the Sandhedrim, with a Lamentation for Zion," 
" The Progress and Cure of Melancholy," " The Family of 
the Humanists " in four volumes, but this was left unfinished, 
and " Home," consisting of 354 Spenserian stanzas. 

In the G/asgmu Chronicle of 2nd April, 1818, there ap- 
peared the following intimation : — " Died on the 28th ult., 
in her father's house, Canal Bank, Paisley, Mrs. Margaret 
Macfarlane, relict of James Muir, Surgeon, Paisley." 


Annihilation ! gloomy power, 

Whose awful reign the wicked hail, 
We deprecate the direful hour, 

If nothing shall o'er all prevail. 

When sleepless Chaos and old Night 

O'er regions dark their sceptre swayed, 
In regions fair of life and light 

Fair Virtue's form was bright displayed. 

Those gl(X)my powers of hideous form 

In awful, unseen, silence reigned ; 
They held their own, ne'er thought to storm 

What other powers of right maintained. 

But thy ambition's unconfincd, 

Thy grasp all rational Nature dreads ; 
Hy fury mad, and anger blind, 

Each misery dire thy raging feeds. 


In awful gloom thou sit'st enthroned 

'Mid shades of endless night involved, 
With desolation's waste around, 

And order horridly convolve(L 

Dread Horror guards thy awful seats ; 

There Terror, sullen fiend, awaits 
His sickening yells and shrieks repeats. 

And fills the entrance to thy gates. 

Upon thy steps Despair attends 

Alone, thy empire dire upholds. 
Thy baneful reign alone commends. 

Drives wretched mortals to thy holds. 

Malevolence of sullen brow, 

And Envy wrinkled, meagre fiend. 
With melancholy in darksome hue 

Each proved thy tried and faithful friend. 

These, sickening, pined at others' good. 

Enraged themselves, others harass ; 
O'er Woe's ab)rss continual brood. 

Or plunge into it — woeful pass ! 

Remorse, of vice and folly sprung. 

Faithful awaits thy dire command. 
And first augments the gloomy throng 

'lliat hurries to thy dreary land. 

Near to thy throne, in close array, 

A numerous band of fiends are ranged, 
Hold all around in dread dismay. 

And stand with horrid front, unchanged. 

No ray of light athwart thy gloom. 

No gleam of hope there ever darts ; 
Eternal darkness, direful doom, 

Prevails o'er all these horrid parts. 

No verdure e're adorns thy fields, 

A sullen, barren waste prevails ; 
No fruit thy empire ever yields, 

Eternal want there never fails. 



insatiate power ! both fierce and bold, 
By truth and virtue both abhorred, 

What mind will ever dare unfold 
The horrors in thy dens upstored ? 

Has tyranny destruction spread ! 

Has innocence its fury fled ? 

Have fairest regions been laid waste 

By dire resentment's furious blast ? 

Ambition's woes, who can recount, 

Or war's dire rage the sad amount ? 

Who fully knows volcanic rage ? 

What horrors spread when winds enraged. 

Or earthquake's desolating thrill. 

That do the will of Heaven fulfil? 

Who counts the crimes of selfish pride. 

The pestilence rage who can describe? 

Or ills that human race betide 

W^hen swept by passion's swollen tide ? 

Who raving's woes can full relate. 

Or persecution's ire abate ? 

Who knows the extent of human pains, 

Or all that misery's cup contains ? 

But more than this, in one combined, 

Are to thy gloomy wall confined. 

Immured in gloomy dungeons deep, 
Thy wretched subjects lie enchained. 

Tasting the horrors of eternal sleep 

And ceaseless dreams by dread maintained. 

Immortal honours — glory bright — 

The thrones of Heaven and joy unknown — 

The regions fair of life and light — 
Lie lost beneath thy gloomy throne. 

These are the triumphs of Despair ; 

These Virtue's wrecks lie scattered wide ; 
These Vice's trophies far declare 

All swept in dark Oblivion's tide. 

But thanks to that eternal power 
Enthroned in glorious rays of light, 

Tliat aye sustains the immortal tower — 
Dispels Annihilation's night. 



JAMES PATERSON, a native of Paisley, was born in 
March, 1775, and died at 24 Maxwellton Street, in Novem- 
ber, 1843. He was a weaver by trade, and continued to be 
so employed all his life. He indulged in versifying, and 
many of his compositions appeared in the newspapers, and 
afterwards in printed leaflets. Besides the poetical speci- 
mens I give, he was also the author of " Eastern Tale, a 
Poem," ''Queen Caroline,*' &c. He was also a noted florist. 


All hail ! my caimie rhjrming chiel, 

Thou bard o' future hope, 
A little prouder thou may feel, 

Thy muse is mounting up. 

I like thy hamely, simple rhyme, 
Unclogg'd wi' pompous phrase ; 

An omen that in future time 
Twill grace far richer lays. 

Ilk brush thou'rt showing mair o' skill 

In making verses rin ; 
Thou*rt stealing up the poets' hill 

Fu' fine, wi' little din. 

I'm unco glad at what thou says — 

My counsel's kept in view, 
*T\in\\ raise thy pleasure and thy praise, 

Thou bard ! ance mair adieu. 



'T«'as on a Sunday afternoon, 

In bonnie summer weather, 
The clouds began to lour abune, 

An' gather a' thegither. 

It darkened onwards by degrees, 

The thunder loud did roar. 
The lightning glanc'd o'er Sheddan trees. 

An' brak' at Nathie's door. 

With vivid flash an' sudden dart 

The forked lightning flew ; 
When sunk the cobbler's timid heart, 

An' pale his visage grew. 

Of non-conductors o'er and o'er 
In Franklin's works he read. 

Wi' fear beset, an' trembling sore, 
He crap into the bed. 

This last resource to save his life 
The eerie cobbler tried ; 
** No power on earth — e'en Bell, my wife — 
** Shall make me stir," he cried. 




The Rifles of Paisley, by eight in the mom. 

From slumber were roused by the sound of the horn. 

And off to the muster they hurried them all, 

To the fearful brink of the great Canal. 

And marvel, I ween, did the people to see 

These chivalrous heroes parade at the quay. 

And hardily dare the treacherous wave 

That many long miles the land doth lave. 


But they boldly embarkM on the dreadful deep, 
Where once eighty sank in an endless sleep ; 
They ventured their bodies within the boat 
That coggling-like on the waters did float, 
With wallets well lined with lumps of cheese. 
And slices of bread their wames to appease, 
And keep up their hearts so brave and true, 
And cheer them on at the great review. 

And off in the bark they bound away. 
Her keel the green waters dashed in spray ; 
And Mungo stood on the glancing prow. 
And flourished an air on his row-de-de-dow. 
The heroes he cheered with the notes of war. 
And their thoughts flew off to battle afar. 
The while they flew o*er the surging flood. 
In fancy they waded through fields of blood. 

Should Wilson but gather his thousand men 
To fight with the French in the fields of Spain, 
Let him cast his eye on this warlike band, 
And rally them under his sage command. 
For their doughty courage, both staunch and true. 
By wordy fight would the PVench subdue ; 
Oh, had but Sebastian seen their face, 
The French had hurriedly gotten a chase ! 

Abroad at Glasgow, at drill on the Green, 
The Western Heroes were glancing seen ; 
With wheeling and drilling they panted full sore, 
Till the white blood came oozing from every pore. 
Though scorched by the sun at this grand display. 
Their hearts were stout, and they felt no dismay ; 
But ere it was gloaming, the officers felt 
They were thinner at least by a span in the belt. 

But their courage ne'er fell, though their bodies were tired, 
Though their eyes were shut w^hen their muskets were fired. 
And their heads were tum'd from the dreadful sight. 
Lest the gunpowder flash might their countenance fright. 
Yet great was the valour that day was displayed, 
And numbers were shot, but none of them dead ; 


Though shot through the heart, let it no one surprise, 
They only were smitten by fair ladies* eyes. 

Convinced by their ardour they truly were brave, 
Some few took the road — the rest brav*d the wave, 
And left their neighbours to pad it alone 
Who had not the courage to sail again home. 
But their courage, alas ! had nearly fallen through, 
For the bottom gave way of their war canoe. 
Which spread dismay thro* the valorous corps. 
And the riflemen threw into horrid uproar. 

A shipwreck so dreadful, so far from the land, 
Might sorely appal e'en the hardiest band. 
Such piteous confusion was ne*er seen before. 
But they paddled it out and they waddled ashore, 
And sturdily tramped the rest of the road, 
'Neath the wondrous weight of the ponderous load 
Of muskets, and pouches, and powder, and ball. 
Till they came to the foot of the new castle wall. 
And banners were flapping aloft on the towers ; 
The front of the hall was bedecked with flowers ; 
And the crown of our country encircled was there, 
With chaplets of laurels and yellow flowers rare ; 
While the loud bugle sung, and the bell went dong-ding. 
But the people were glad to stand back in a ring. 
For on young fellows' noddles, it might truly be said. 
That the batonmen's cudgels a symphony play'd. 

And our nobles were met in the great castle hall. 
With pastors and preachers, and bailies and all ; 
They met for to hold the birth-day of our king. 
And out to the rostmm the wine they did bring. 
In loyal respect all their hearts did combine, 
And they quaff'd his health in the rubicund wine, 
Then merrily shouted a cheer and a-half. 
But the echoes flew back in a murmuring laugh. 

But the drums and the pipes then again sounded high. 
And a twang of the bugles flew up to the sky ; 
From the castle the ladies smiled witchingly coy, 
Till the Riflemen fired a fierce lovc-de-joy^ 


And raised a din like (he havoc of death, 
Which nearly deprived the fair fraws of their breath, 
And they fearfully hid from ihe sulphury smoke — 
From the marvellous fire which Irue valour bespoke. 

But the crowd was ungrateful — unloyal, I ween, 

No( a cap in the air could waving be seen. 

For close lo their noddles their honnels lay pat. 

As if it had been (rouble to flourish a hat ; 

And pettishly silent were alt of their throats, 

For Ihey joined not the joy with their cbmorous notes, 

And each seemed as niggardly now of their noise 

As if met to observe and not to rejoice. 

Yet Ihe sight of the legion of emerald green. 

When their 'coulcrmenls glanced with a daziling sheen, 

Inspired every youLh with a patriot flame — 

Their hearts glo^'d for honour, for glory, and fame ; 

And when the green heroes for home niarch'd away, 

After the feats of thij notable <lay. 

The young men all envied iheir gallant looks bold, 

Who proudly might rank with our heroes of old. 



WILLIAM LIVINGSTON was born in Paisley in 1776. 
He was a weaver to trade, and was intimately acquainted 
with Tannahill and corresponded with him. He went upon 
the stage, and was for a time in the company of Mr. Archi- 
bald Pollock, manager of the Paisley Theatre. Livingston 
was in the company of Harry Johnston when he had his 
theatre in the Saracen's Head Inn, Paisley. On the even- 
ing of 17th July, 1822, he acted the character of Hugo in 
the tragedy of " Bertram, or the Castle of Saint Aldobrand." 
He acted for nearly half-a-century in Scotland and Ireland, 
but mainly in Paisley and Glasgow. He sometimes left the 
stage and returned to the weaving for a season. Livingston 
was also a poet, and was the author of " The Weaver's 
Lament," "The Gloaming and several other pieces, but 
they were never collected nor published. In 1845, failing 
health overtook him, and he went to reside in Greenock, to 
try to have it improved. On loth June, 1849, ^^ "^^t with 
an accident at the steamboat quay and was killed. He was 
then in his 73rd year. 


See how bricht, wi' goud a' bleezin*, 
Purple shaded shines the wast ; 

Cool the air, an' sweet an' pleasin', 
Now the burnin' day is past. 

Now, while the sun, fast sinkin', 
Yellow tints yon eastern braes, 

And the clachan bell is clinkin', 
Let me sit, an', list'ning, gaze. 


Seated on this verdant hncwie, 

Whar" the curlin' fog aye gton-s. 
An' the sunbeam<i family glow, ay, 

An' the bnrnic quietly rows. 
Frae (he hedge, by yonder plantin', 

Sweeter far than notes o' airt. 
Hart ! the hlockbird, how he's chanlin' 

Loud and clear — it thrills the heart. 
SafI I hear the lainmies bleatin', 

Distant kye rowc a' aroun'; 
Echo frae the hichts repeatin'. 

Lengthens out the varied soun'. 
Fresh the zephyrs, gently brealhin'. 

Sleekly bend the noddin' bete, 
Carryin' scented fragrance wi' them 

Krae Ihs clover and the brier. 
See the cottar, pacin' slowly 

To his hul below the hitt ; 
Hame's ay hame, Iho' e'er sue lou'ly — 

There, ihu' puir, he's H-eleome still. 
Dlylhc the wee bit whisilin" herdie 

I>rives his charge out o«-te the lee, 
\Vi' the nest o' >.ome sweet birdie 

Herried frae its chosen tree. 
While he hands secure his plunder. 

Tent less that he's do in' wrang. 
Fancy hears the milher, yonder, 

Wail her loss in plaintive sang. 
Stop I forbear your wanton thieviu' 

Little robber, hear yon tune '. 
Kent ye how Ihe mither's grievin' 

Sure ye'd rue the deed ye've dune. 
Now, the bankic-bird altendin', 

Minds me that it's wearin' late. 
An' the moistening dews descendin' 

'Gin to weet my grassy seal. 



JAMES KING was a native of Paisley, and was bom in 
Causeyside Street in 1776. He was sent to school at seven 
years of age, but his education consisted only of a little 
reading and writing. When little more than eight years of 
age, he was taken by his father to assist him in weaving 
figured muslin. Although he had a great desire for reading, 
it was not till he reached twelve years of age that he joined 
a circulating library, and within two years afterwards he had 
read much of the history and ballads of this country and of 
the mythology of ancient Greece and Rome. " But these 
Eastern Bards," he stated, " almost ruined me. I began to 
write verses myself ; and as I could not be inspired by a 
draught from Helicon, nor see the sun from the top of 
Parnassus rising in glory from the eastern sky, I thought 
that Saucel Hill and Espedair Bum, Paisley, would be 
excellent substitutes : so for several mornings I arose before 
day-break and ascended that hill and there waited with 
impatience for the powerful god of day, and regularly, when 
I ascended, took a hearty draught of the then limpid stream 
of Espedair." But his father " put an end to this delusion." 

After a time, Alexander Borland (see p. 84) joined him in 
his rambles, and in the same year he became acquainted 
with Tannahill and several other verse - makers. In his 
eighteenth year, in order to see military life, he enlisted in 
the West Lowland Fencibles, and after five years' service 
the battalion was disbanded and he retumed to Paisley. In 
1803 he joined the ranks of the Renfrew Militia, and 
several years afterwards the battalion was sent to Perth to 
do some duty in connection with French prisoners. Some 
insubordination arose among the men, and, being infomied 


— although he had nothing to do with the matter — that he 
was regarded as a ringleader, he deserted, and, after many 
trials he ultimately went to a relation serving under a farmer 
in Galloway, where he worked as a farm labourer. Finding 
the work very severe, he left and went by circuitous routes 
to Kincardine to see his wife, and afterwards went to Crieff 
where he stopped and got employment at weaving. The 
battalion of Militia which he had entered was disbanded 
in 181 5, when he obtained his discharge, the military 
authorities being thoroughly satisfied that he had not any- 
thing to do with the insubordination. In 1826, he returned 
to Paisley and lived in the same house in which he was 
born. During the following year, he removed to Charleston, 
Paisley, where his wife died in 1847, ^^^ he died there on 
9th September, 1849, in his seventy-third year. They were 
both interred in Paisley Cemetery. 

Many of his poetical pieces appeared throughout a period 
of many years in newspapers and periodicals. His youthful 
effusions, till he was about thirty years of age, were nearly 
all lost. When he was in the army, many of his pieces were 
sent to a friend in Paisley and were never recovered. In 
1842, he commenced to collect all his poetry and to publish 
it in sixpenny numbers, but they only reached the third 
number. This was very unfortunate, for he had a great 
many good poetical pieces. It is to be hoped that some 
one will yet collect all his poetry and publish it. King was 
the author of the prose piece entitled *' The Battle of 
Busaco," which appeared in the " Harp of Renfrewshire " 
in 181 9, and which Motherwell stated was written by the 
"Ettrick Shepherd." King was the author of "A Legend 
of Stanely Castle " in prose, that appeared in the Renfrew- 
shire Annual for 1841. The Rev. Dr. Rogers, in the 
Scottish Minstrel^ states that " for vigorous intellect, lively 
fe.ncy, and a keen appreciation of the humorous. King was 


much esteemed among persons of a rank superior to his 
own. His mind was of fine devotional cast, and his 
poetical compositions are distinguished by earnestness of 
expression and sentiment." 

The first published poetical piece from Mr. King's pen 
which I have fallen in with, is entitled " Home Service on 
the March and Campaign : a Military Poem — by James 
King, a Private in the Renfrew Militia." It was printed at 
Portsea in 1810, and extends to eighteen pages duodecimo. 
From this poem, I give the following extracts : — 

Of armies o'er the widely gleaming plain 

In awful conflict, I presume not here ; 
Nor widows weeping o'er their husbands slain 

*Mong dead and dying in the Caponniere ; 

Of city sieg'd with many a sword and spear ; 
No, my Amelia : I attempt to sing 

The various scenes where British youths appear, 
Beneath the royal standard's gilded wing 
In their own native isle, whence endless pleasures spring. 

The grey-dawn brightens o'er the azure main, 

And shrilly rings the bugle in the square ; 
The troops, ol)edient to the warlike strain. 

In all the glittering pomp of arms, appear ; 

The unfurl'd ensigns beat the dewy air ; 
The royal thistle, terror of its foes. 

With crimson top behold, and shining fair ; 
Of Anglia's sons the j^ridc, the lovely rose 
Fondly entwining now, a glorious wreath compose. 

High on his noble charger now behold 

The chief of the battalion view his men ; 
Two massy epaulets of burnished gold 

Shine on his shoulders ; on his breast is seen 

A glittering gorget, golden too, I ween. 
That sparkles to the morning's early light ; 

And now his blade of polibh'd metal keen 
He draws, and the battalion to the right 
He faces with a voice of power and might. 


Obedient to the voice of power they move, 

The mmstreb plftf some well-known Scottish aiT — 
Perhaps Balquhidder rises, notes of love 

That cheer ihe grove, or urge to deadly war ; 

Or sweet Lochfrrxh-sidi, that oft aTar 
Hath fir'd the toldtcr's foc'defying heart 

When weary, worn with ttrfl in warfare drear, 
Made him foi^et the knapsack's galling smart. 
And to the enliv'ning stmin the left foot plant alert. 


The lake is at rest, love, 

The sun's on it's breast, love — 
How bright is its water, how pleasant 1o see ! 

Its verdant banks showing 

The richest flow'rs blowing — 
A picluie of bliss and an emblem of thee. 

Then O, fairest maiden. 

When earth is array'd in 
The beauties of Heaven o'er mountain and lea. 

Let me still delight in 

The glories that brighten ; 
For they are, dear Anna, sweet emblems of thee. 

But Anna, why redden ; 

I would not, fair maiden. 
My tongue could pronounce what might tend to betray — 

The traitor, the demon. 

That could deceive woman, 
His soul'ii all unfit for the glories of day. 

Believe me then, fairest. 

To me thou art dearest ; 
And Iho" I in raptures view lake, stream, and tree, 

With flow'r-blooming mounlain-~, 

And crystalline fountains, 
I view them, fair maid, but as emblems of thee. 




Whaur sweetly rins the Espedair 

Down by the Bladda Green, 
It's banks adom'd wi* hawthorns fair, 

It*s bed wi* pebbles clean, 
There lives a lass ; in Scotland wide 

There's nanc that's ha'f sae fair 
As her that wons down by the side 

O' l)onnie Espedair. 

Alane, 1 aften dauner roun' 

When gloamin's setting in, 
An' on the Hamles-head sit down 

To gaze upon the Linn ; 
My soul absorb'd in dreams o' bliss 

That I with her may share, 
If Fate fulfil my only wish — 

The Lass o* Espedair. 

When comrades meet their cracks to tell. 

An' joke o'er Nelly's yill, 
I wan'er maun'ring to myscl'. 

And climb the Saucel Hill ; 
Mirk night comes on, the wee stars shine, 

An' I'm still sittin' there, 
Ae sole idea in my min' ! 

The Lass o' Espedair. 

O ! what transcendent bliss 'twill be 

Sic treasures to possess ; 
Yet I fear it's no ordained for me 

Sae perfect happiness. 
If ever she anither's be, 

'Twill drive me to despair ; 
In the Kibbie deep my banes shall sleep 

For the Lass o' Espedair. 

^iV—Scott's "Boat Song." 
No song was heard o'er the broom-cover'd valley 

Save the lone stream o'er the rock as it fell. 
Warm were the sunbeams, and glancing so gaily. 
That gold sccm'd to dazzle along the tlower'd vale. 


At length from the hill I heard, 
Plaintively wild, a bard,' 
.Yet pleasant to me was his soul's ardent flow — 
" Remember what Morard says, 
Morard of many days, 
* Life's like the dew on the hill of the roc.' 

•* Son of the peaceful vale, keep from the battle plain, 
Sad is the song that the buglc-homs sing, 
Though lovely the standard that waves o'er the mangled slain, 
Widows* sighs stretching its broad gilded wing. 
Hard are the laws that bind 
Poor foolish man and blind, 
But free thou may'st walk as the breezes that blow. 
Thy cheeks with health's roses spread 
Till Time clothes with snow thy head 
Fairer than dew on the hill of the roe. 

" Would'st thou have peace in thy mind when thou'rt hoary 
Shun vice's paths in the days of thy bloom ; 
Innocence leads to the summit of glory. 

Innocence gilds the dark shades of the tomb. 
The tyrant, whose hands are red, 
Trembles alone in bed. 
But pure is the peasant's soul, pure as the snow ; 
No horror-fiends haunt his rest, 
Hope fills his placid breast — 
Hope bright as dew on the hill of the roe." 

Ceased the soft voice, for grey mist was descending, 

Slow rose the bard and retired from the hill. 
The blackbird's mild notes with the thrush's were blending, 
Oft scream'd the plover her wild notes and shrill, 

Yet still from the hoary bard 

Methought the sweet song I heard, 
Mix'd with instruction and blended with woe ; 

And oft as I pass along 

Chimes in mine ear his song — 
" Life's like the dew on the hill of the roe." 



How oft by Roslin's aged bield 

I've wander'd where the Esk distils, 
And oft I've clinib'd wi' weary feet 

The black, bare face o* Pentland Hills ; 
But, ah ! on them nae mair I'll rove, 

Nor frae them view the rowan tree, 
Nor will I e'er behold again 

The lass that liv'd near Woodhouselee. 

Oh ! many a rough, rough blast will blow. 

And many a flowV will grace the green. 
And many a bonnic lassie yet 

In Caledonia will be seen ; 
But rougher blast will never blow 

Than brought death's tidings unto me. 
Nor ever flow'r spring up again 

Like her that liv'd near Woodhouselee. 

Oh ! I hae seen the morning sun 

The highest heathery mountains gild, 
And I hae seen his noontide rays 

In radiance on the waving field ; 
But soon his lovely light was veil'd. 

Red lightning flash'd along the lea. 
Oh ! sic has been my waefu' fate 

For her that liv'd near Woodhouselee. 

The simmer sun may mildly shine. 

And winter moons may grace the night. 
The sea may row its softest waves, 

But these can ne'er my heart delight. 
How can I e'er be glad again. 

My all of life is ta'en frae me ; 
Oh ! I will wander waefu' still 

For her that liv'd near Woodhouselee. 


DUNCAN HENDERSON for many years carried on 
the business of grocer and spirit dealer at No. 6 Cowie- 
ston. Paisley, which was a range of buildings of one storey 
in height, with thatched roofs, situated at the south end of 
Maxwehon Street, and nearly opposite the east end of Newton 
Street. When taken down a good many years ago, they 
were very old. While William Cobbett, the great political 
writer, resided in America, he became fully conversant with 
the important nutritious qualities possessed by Indian com, 
and on his return to this country he made great efforts, by 
his example and by his pen, to induce everyone to grow this 
valuable cereal. Mr. Henderson was one among many 
others who with great zeal adopted every scheme to grow 
" Cobbett's Corn," which was the name it generally received. 
But the climate in this county was very unfavourable, and 
every attempt proved a failure. When William Cobbett made 
a tour in Scotland in 1832, he remained in Paisley from the 
ijrd to the Z7th October in that year, and was the guest of 
Mr. Archibald Stewart, cloth merchant, 244 High Street, 
who then resided in (iarthland Street. During that time 
Mr. Cobbett gave two lectures, and was honoured with a 
public dinner in the Saracen's Head Inn — Mr. Speirs of 
Elderslie being the chairman. He visited several persons 
in town, and among these the widow of Mr. Duncan 
Henderson. Mr, Cobbett, in the account of his tour in 
Scotland, page 179, published by himself in the following 
year, states : — 

'■ On the same day, when I expected to go and see Mr. 
Duncan Henderson, who, from his attachment to me, or 


rather to my writings, had taken so much pains to cultivate 
my corn, I was informed that I had to see his widow, for 
that he had died on the day of my first arrival at Glasgow. 
As a mark of my respect for the memory of so worthy a 
man — a man of so much public spirit, and so justly beloved 
— I went to see Mrs. Henderson, at which she was very much 
pleased ; and she showed me a letter written by myself to 
her late husband, on which she had set so much value as to 
have it framed and hung up as a picture. Not to see him, 
and, still more, to find that he was dead, really cast a damp 
over my pleasures at Paisley, though at no place where I 
have ever been in my life was I ever received with more 
cordiality, nor was my reception anywhere ever accompanied 
with circumstances better calculated to leave lasting impres- 
sions of gratitude on my mind ; among which circumstances 
I must by no means overlook the hospitable, the kind, the 
cordial, the brother-like and sister-like manner in which I 
was received, lodged, and entertained by Mr. and Mrs. 

Mr. Henderson died on 17th October, 1832, and the an- 
nouncement of his death, in the Paisley Advertiser of 20th 
October in that year, was accompanied with the following 
regarding him : — 

" In his wishes to ameliorate the general lot of his species, 
Mr. Henderson was quite an enthusiast ; and had his means 
equalled his desires, few would have surpassed his exertions 
when such an object was in view. In his politics, which 
were, however, wholly free from acerbity, and in rural 
economy, Mr. Cobbett was his idol. He was most zealous 
in his endeavours to introduce the com which now bears the 
name of that celebrated writer into Scotland ; and the hope 
of seeing Mr. Cobbett — in which, however, he was disap- 
pointed — afforded him a degree of gratification even on 
his deathbed. Of his failings, we may say, even they 
* leaned to virtue's side.' '' 

Mr. Henderson, in the midst of the avocations which ab- 
sprbed his attention, reserved a portion of his time for the 


writing of verse, and I give some specimens, which were 
published three years after his death i — 
Hills that encompass me, ye are my Home, 

Thai, stn^gling with dark men's deeds, honour'd shine ; 
On land or ocean, whetesoe'er I roam. 

My thou^ts are with thee, and my heart is tbine. 
Tnie majesty hath rear'd its awful lamp 

Before the prowess of thy mighty fame ; 
Thy march of mind, thy valoroui deeds, do stamp 

Thee mistress of a high, exalted name. 
Tbou art no home of mean and nameless worth. 

No hidden speck obscured by brighter rays ; 
Thyself the centre of ten thouiand beams, all earth 

Doth fondly woo thee, to be taught thy ways. 
Liberty ! thou pensive wild one of our land, 

Thou timid lingerer by our patriots' graves ; 
Believe, dear- worshipped one, that many a hand 

And heart lives for thee yet within our isle of waves. 
On earth there is nought lovely without thee ; 

With thee nought is but loveliness. 
Tyrants '. wiath b whetting that will conquer ye. 

Till earth b one great land of happiness. 
And hail ! my own wild home, that was, is, shall 

Be the rocky-cavem'd mountain foe 
Of bonds and chains, worthy the wretch doth cmwl 

In God's own light and likenes.'i, yet so base and low. 
Brightest gem of earth's freebom, all hail t 

My heart o'erflows in its full tide 

Of warm affection, and of native pride 
To be with thee ; where it at last must dwell. 

And mix with my siies' dust, that for thee died. 
Not with the dust of base, bad hearts and sUves, 

Soil of the fair and mighty still prevail 
In thy own right ; ihy hills, and rocks, and waves, 

And native suul shall more and more avail. 

Till earth proclaims to heaven Oppression's burial knell. 




In this world of wrath and storm, 

Of Tories and of Whigs, 
Of vile corruption and reform, 

Of coxcombs and of prigs ; 
This cauldron boiling full of bubbles. 

So airy and so vain ; 
This fading round of dross and stubbles, 

Where * * nothing *' ends the scene. 

How changeable the changes are, 

That flit from hour to hour, 
Eddying in lifers whirlpool, far 

Beyond conception's power ! 
O'erbearing in their rush of strength 

The mighty and their might. 
The height, the depth, the breadth, and length. 

Of human wrong and right ! 

Birth and death, wealth and power. 

Go jostling in the pool. 
Whisking about their little hour 

Of submission and of rule. 
Sir Pele * and Atty, whose attack 

O'erthrew the Gallic host. 
Have urged old Whig to haul aback, 

And cheer him off the coast. 

Gathered round the swollen pair 

Are found a pension'd band 
With glistening skins so flab and fair, 

All suckers of the land. 
W^hilst lean, and lank, and wan are they. 

Pets of heart-worn care. 
Their scom'd, abused, and needy prey, 

That toil to make them fair. 

^ These names apparently refer to Sir Robert Peel and to the 
Christian name of Arthur VN ellesley, Duke of Wellington. 


So Wliig up lo ihc hustings got. 

And scem'd as he would cry ; 
Perhaps it n-aa a Whitish plot — 

For Whigs are reckoned sly. 
And kindred feelings will ensure 

Corresponding sympathy ; 
And who a Tory could endure — 

Destroyer of liberty. 
He waved (he 'kerchief which he drew 

Krom his buttoned breast — 
In token of silence, his nose he blew, 

And thus his friends addressed — 
" Fellow-countrymen anil friends. 

To the contest up again ; 
The foe his little guile expends, 

And promises in vain. 
" Who the assassin's hand would trust, 

Though proffered o'er and o'er. 
Or known thief whose hand was thrust 

In our pockets once before. 
Up to the contest once again ; 

Fearful is the wrath 
That lowers on the oppressor's chain, 

And marks the freeman's path. 
" In days we read of— them of yore — 

Slaves breath'cl not— men were free ; 
The impress which our fathers wore 

Next their hearts was liberty. 
Then by the spirit which directed 

The prowes-. of the brave, 
By our might shall be protected 

All our &thers gave. 
" The land which ocean vi-alers lave, 

Dear islands of the sea ; 
The freeman's home and freeman's grave, 

Scourge of earth's tyranny. 
The constitution of our land 

In its purity an<l grace. 
Such as it ought to be when clean'd 

From things corrupt and hose. 



" The which its own wealth empowers, 

With all the wise have sought, 
Blessings that should all be ours, 

Were we but as we ought. 
Shan't have Knatchbulls — Barings, who set 

Consistency at nought ; 
Who favour and a living get 

By being sold and bought. " 

Here issued from the crowd a groan. 

But Whig seem'd none dismay'd — 
Tho* well he knew, in times that's gone, 

Himself had blunders made. 
But he resum'd — old dukes with noses 

That smell of nought but gore, 
Fate for its own end them disposes 

To deeds that shall stand o'er. 



JOHN PATERSON, warper, brother of James Paterson 
(page 107), was bom at Paisley in September, 1777, and died 
at 24 Maxwellton Street in 1845. ^^ ^'^ ^^^ author of a 
number of poetical pieces, among them " The Land we live 
in," " Mortagh O'Sullivan," and " Wee Johnnie Manikin's 
Bell." In his youth he was an intimate acquaintance of 
Tannahiirs, and frequently a comrade in his travels. 


This is Jack Manikin's bell, 

And here is wee Johnnie himsel', 

And this is the libel blaspheming the bible, 

And wee Johnnie Manikin's belL 

This is Delap who was catch'd in a trap 
For publishing the libel blaspheming the bible, 

And wee Johnnie Manikin's bell. 

ITiis is John Hart, the lawyer so smart, 
Who set the trap that catch*d Delap, 
Who published the libel blaspheming the bible. 

And wee Johnnie Manikin's bell. 

^ This poem refers to an action raised by Mr. John Hart, procurator- 
fiscal, against Mr. John Dunlop, a member of the Town Council, for 
issuing handbills without the printer's name attached thereto, in terms 
of the statute 51, George III., chap. 65, sec. 27. The following is a 
copy of this handbill, which it was alleged had a tendency to ridicule 
the conduct of the Rev. John Macnaughtan, Paisley : — 

NOTICE. that the LORD ADVOCATE of Scotland has found and 
declared the Bell, in the steeple of the High Church, actually to 
belong to, and form part and portion of the sacred property of the 
Church, and that the same can only be rung under my orders, for the 
purpose of assembling my spiritual BeiiAgcx^ni Flock ; intimation is 
nereby given to all belonging to our most lloly National Church, — to 
her Clergy as well as to her Laity,— to her Pastors, Elders, and 


This is Hab's shop, where the thing was got up, 
Where the libel was wrote, where they laid the plot, 
That was gi'en to John Hart, so clever and smart. 
To bait the trap that catch 'd Delap, 
For publishing the libel blaspheming the bible, 

And wee Johnnie Manikin's bell. 

Here arc the six wise men who sat on the Bench, 
Who from true Tory principles never will flinch ; 
That fined Delap in one hundred pounds ! 
For the case was made out on the clearest grounds — 
With fifteen pounds more, to cover expenses, 
And bring the Reformers back to their senses. 

Deacons — Members, and those who are not members, but arc friendly 
to her establishment, and to such only is this intimation made : — viz. 

The High Church BELL will be solemnly Baptized and Anointed, 
oleo ChristmatiSf in my Session- 1 louse y on the evening of Sunday first, at 
Eight o'clock. The Bell to be consecrated to the memory of the 
tutelary Saint, St. Mirin, nnd will receive the exorcism of the 
Bishop of the Diocese, for the more effectually expelling the Devil ! 
and whole herd of Volutitaries and Inftdels from out of the hearing of 
its sound. 

J. MANNIKIN, Parish fncst. 

High Church Session- House, ) 
26th Nov. 1834. i" 

The case was tried in Paisley before a quorum of the Justices of the 
Peace, on 30th December, 1834. After upwards of thirty witnesses 
were examined for the prosecution, the court decided *'it has been 
sufficiently proved that the defende-, John Dunlop, has contravened the 
said statute in so far as he, within the time mentioned in the complaint, 
and in violation of the said statute, did publish and disperse, or assist 
in publishing or dispersing twenty copies of the handbill or notice, 
founded on the same and produced, not having the printer's name 
thereon attached in terms of law, and that he had forfeited the sum of 
;f 20 for each such offence. But in respect of the circumstances of the 
case, and founding on the said statute, mitigate the same to one-fourth 
part thereof, or £100 stg., being £^ for each such notice of bill 
distributed." The court also "find the said John Dunlop liable in costs 
of prosecution, and modify the same to ;f 15,*' and **in default mitigate 
the imprisonment to four months." Against this decision Mr. Dunlop, 
by his agent, appealed to the Quarter Sessions at Renfrew, where Mr. 
J. B. Gray, writer, Glasgow, appeared for Mr. Dunlop, and Mr. 
Patrick Robertson, advocate, Edinburgh, appeared for Mr. Hart, on 
2nd March, 1835. After the court had been addressed at great length 
by these two legal gentlemen, four of the Justices voted for sustaining 
the appeal, twenty-seven for dismissing it, and three declined to vote. 
Mr. Gray gave notice of an appeal to the High Court of Justiciary. 
This case excited great interest, and party feeling ran very high. 



THOMAS BOUSKILL was bom in Nottingham on i8th 
February, 1779. He was a stocking weaver to trade ; and 
after coming to Paisley, according to a memorandum book 
kept by himself, he married in 1796 Mary Lochhead, a 
daughter of James Lochhead, silk weaver. Thomas 
Bouskill had a numerous family, whose births are recorded 
in that memorandum book. Several of his descendants, 
both male and female, continue to reside in Paisley, and 
are respectable members of society. I have not been able 
to discover much more relating to him. Like many other 
individuals of the working classes in Paisley, he paid some 
attention to the writing of verse, and I give two of his 
poetical pieces, which were found in the pocket-book 
already referred to. 


yiiV— "Duncan Gray." 

Since I first, in Robin's praise, 

Ower my fiddle drew a bow, 
Muckle care an* mony days 

Have spread cranreuch ower ray pow. 
Still the sound o' youthful glee 
Has a powerful charm on me. 
And tho' deaf and doilt I be, 

I sal do the best I dow. 

I at bookins blithe hae been, 

Botlins, bridals, blythemeats too 
And at burials, I ween. 

Done what nane sud ever do. 
But the night that bears the gree, 
Is whan chields, in sympathy. 
Meet to pledge the memory 

Of the bard they dearly lo'e. 


Are we doufie, dull, and wae, 
Rab can drive our care a\^'a* ; 

Are we up or down the brae, 
Rab has something for us a'. 

Whar than is the causheugh thing 

Will refuse to drink and sing? 

Ower the rooftree let him hing, 
I sal gie the tow a draw. 

Ye wha wish a life that's lang, 

Taste our poet's birthday cheer ; 
Ilka toast and ilka sang 

Gi'es us back another year. 
Length of life ye thus may earn, 
And by Homimomi learn 
That Methusala was a bairn 

Whan compair'd wi' fo'k that*s here. 


O ! this world it is changing fast, 
Like every thing we see, man ; 
But the drollest change that e'er I saw 
Is this general change for tea, man. 
Langsyne, when neighbours met for fun. 
They drank canty barley-bree, man ; 
But in this wise, reforming age. 
Now nothing will do but tea, man. 

The fashions they change, 
And the seasons they change, 
So this is an age for tea, man. 

Our ministers they bawl and cry 
To drop the barley-bree, man. 
And nothing stronger e'er to try 
Than water, coffee, or tea, man. 
But if you'll look about their lugs. 
There ye will plainly see, man. 
The lads in black, drink something else 
Than water, coffee, or tea, man. 

The fashions, &c. 


Ltuigsyne, when biims first saw Ihelig 
A dram was sure to be, man ; 
Now neilher her upon the straw, 
Not gossips, a drop dam pree, mao. 
Well mony a faiiley 1 hae seen, 
And mony yet I may see, man ; 
For 1 would not doubt ere it be lang 
Tha/lt christen the weaiu wi' lea, mui 
The fashions, &c. 

Tea ne'er can raise the spirits up 
To ths pitch Ihey ought to be, man, 
When people meet to celebrate 

But let a glass or Iwa gae roun' 
O sterling barley-bree, man. 
Then a tenth o' the fun ye could not ra 
Though ye drink till ye drown, at lea, i 
The fashions, &c. 

This night, should Rab and Allan ca'. 
As they hae herefor' done aye before, ii 
I'm very shure the bards would think 
They had mista'en the door, man, 
When ihey see sue mony decent folk 

And no ae soul-inspiring glass, 
But gobblin' a' al tea, man. 

The fashions, &c. 

Mony a sang the poets have made 
In ])raise o' (he barley-bree, man. 
But when did ane o' ihem mak' a sang 
In praise o' coffee or tea, man ? 
They never did, they never will. 
They just as soon will flee, man ; 
Their very portraits there on (he wa' 

.t the U 
The fashioi 

, &c. 


All shameful drunkards I despise, 

I shun their coming to me, man ; 

But for their sins are we to be damned 

To drink nothing hut water or tea, man ? 

If that's the case, this very night 

Our breeks to our wives we should gi'e, man, 

Since their favoured province we have usurped 

Their scadding work about tea, man. 

The fashions, &c. 


O ! Bums's fame will ne*er decay, 
Burns's fame will ne'er decay ; 
Kings and priests just ha'e their day, 
But Bums's fame will ne'er decay. 

Rab was the lad could touch the soul, 
And gar the tear o' pity roll. 
Or melancholy drive away. 
O ! Bums's fame will ne'er decay. 
Bums's fame, &c. 

Just read the pranks o' Hallowe'en, 
Likewise the Cottar's Saturday E'en, 
And Mary's death made him sac wac. 
O ! Bums's fame will ne'er decay. 
Bums's fame, &c. 

See Shanter Tam, at Alloway Kirk, 
Staring keen at Cutty Sark, 
While the Devil on his pipes did play ! 
O ! Bums's fame will ne'er decay. 
Bums's fame, &c. 

See Robin roving wi' his gun 
Just when the gloaming was begun ; 
A bonnie hen soon wounded lay. 
O ! Bums's fame will ne'er decay. 
Bums's fame, &c. 


View yon haegis, like a dislsmt hill, 
Whose pin wad help to mend a mill. 
While horn for horn Ihe; drive away. 
1 Bunis's fame will ne'er decay. 

Bums's fame, &c. 
Now peep through Poosie Nancy's door, 
And view the beggar's funny splore. 
How well ilk ane his part can play. 
O ! Bums's fame will ne'er decay. 

Bums': fame, &c. 
He lays soul-less Johnny in the clay, 
Gar^ Holy Willie read and pray, — 
Learns dogs [o crack when tired o' play. 
O '. Bums's fame will ne'er decay. 

Bums's fame, &c. 
O l Robin was a kindly chiel, 
And would DOI wrang the vera deil. 
For his amendment he did pray. 
O ', Bums's fame wilt ne'er decay. 

Bums's tame, &c. 
And a' he sings is so complete, 
Be it love, oi war, or funny freak, 
Or hill, or dell, or bank, or brae. 
O ! Bums's iame will ne'er decay. 

Bums's fame, &c. 
But ae night's owre short to sing his praise, 
That task wilt sarc us a' our days ; 
And when that we're a' dead and gane. 
Our bairns will Bums's fame proclaim, 

liurns's fame, &G. 


JOHN KING was a native of Paisley, and born on ist 
August, 1779. He was a weaver to trade. He received 
the usual education at school given to those in his sphere of 
life. Tannahill was a companion of his, and that meant that 
he was one of Paisley's poets. In January, 1805, when the 
Paisley Burns Club was established, he was present, and 
proposed the second toast of " May the genius of Scotland 
be as conspicuous as her mountains.' In his address pro- 
posing this toast, and referring to other poets, he said — 
" We have the correct and elegant versification of Campbell, 
the pleasant legendary tales of Scott, the grave, sententious 
couplets of Pope, the brilliant flashes of Moore, the energetic 
diction of Thomson, the terrific bursts of Shakespeare." 
He also sang a song, given hereafter, composed by himself 
for this convivial occasion. 

John King was a member of the L.C.A., which I have 
frequently mentioned, and he took an active interest in its 
proceedings. He was a theoretical and practical naturalist, 
and a collector of plants, insects, fossil shells, and minerals. 
He possessed a correct knowledge of the geological struc- 
ture of Renfrewshire, and was in his rambles an intense ad- 
mirer of the beauties of nature. Frecjuently he laid his 
opinion and the knowledge he possessed on all these 
matters before the members of the association, a.nd he was 
held by them all in the highest esteem. Another amuse- 
ment he indulged in was angling for trout on the bumsides. 

The poetical pieces he composed were numerous ; and as 
twenty-three of them are engrossed in the minute-book of 
the L.C.A., they must have been highly appreciated by the 
men)bcrs. His strongly satirical poem of "The Deil's Address 



to the Plunkin' Corks " is well known among local readers, 

and has frequently been published. Several of his poetical 
pieces appeared under the auspices of Tannahill in the 
Sdeclor, an Edinburgh periodical, and others have been pub- 
lished anonymously at various periods in other periodicals. 
Many, however, of his poetical pieces were, I understand, 
never published, and are still in manuscript in the minute- 
book of the L.C.A. 

He served a few years in a militia regiment, where his 
modest, unassuming manners procured for him the greatest 
respect. And it should also be stated that his moral charac- 
ter was of the highest order, and he was regarded as a man 
of the strictest integrity and sobriety, John King was never 
married, and he died 20th January, 1837, in the s8lh year 
of his age. 


The ivy clings to the stiiRty oak, 

The rcMjIs of the pine embrace the rocU, 

The starry goH-an thai dects the lea. 

When the sun retires it closes its e'c. 

The whole creation by sympathies move, 
Itut the iitrongcKt attraction is woman's love. 

When wasted with sickness, or weary with (oil, 

It is sweet to be met with a woman's smile ; 

While anxious our joys and our griefs to share. 

Her kindness cornea like an angel's care. 

For noxl to the goodness that comes from above, 
There's nothing lo cr]iuil a woman's love. 

Would the proud and ungrateful but ponder 
Before they destroy a woman's bliss — 
Thai affection iiithdrawn givts ilic ileepesl t 
That the sensitive niinil of a female can kno' 
He is fit for all that a villain can prove 
That wantonly siiorts iiith a woman's k 




This heart o' mine was as cheery and light 

As Ihe birds when fhey flutter and sing. 
When day and night brought all deJighl 

The happiest love could bring. 
But my Ivoe tum'd false, and my heart grew sad, 

Xow my sighs are the sighs of pain ; 
My bosom that aye was so brilliant and glad 

Can never rejoice again. 
Tho' my love be false, and my friends are few, 

I find in the flowery field 
Thai Nature has still a charm to me 

She never ceases lo yiehi, 
'Tis hard to trace in the human face 

When the mind and the fmturcs agree, 
But the hazel bower:; and the blooming flowers 

Are ever the same lo me. 


l' a lang oration. 

Some poets, w 
Implore the muses' inspiration ; 
For me, I'll frankly own the case 
I ne'er had dealings wi' Parnassus 

' After the formation of the new orchanl in connection with the 
Monastery by Abbot Schaw in 1483, the ancient orchanl of about 
six acres, extending from Causcyside to Corilon's I.ane, was sold. In 
1744. James Kiilton, suigeon, thi: proprietor at that lime, laid oflT his 
grouna into streets, calling one of them by the very appropriate name 
of Orchanl Street. It afterwnnU wa* — from -some cause which cannot 
now be ascertainel — called for a long time by the slang name of 
Plunkin, which has now fallen almosi into detiuvtude. The extreme 
eastern part of this orchanl in olden limes was called Blidie or Blaudie, 
now pronounce<l lllailda. which Jamicson slates " is applied to plants 
having a number of broad leaves as lllaudie Kail." This place, there- 
fore, is supposeil lo have lieen the vegetable or kitchen garden lielonging 


The passion joy wi* mirth inspires us, 

The tyrant's scourge with madness fires us ; 

So when the heart is light we sing, 

But still disposed, when gall'd, to fling. 

But not to lengthen out the story, 

I'll now proceed, and la/t before ye — 

Be't true or false, pray, never quarrel, 

Perhaps the fable yields a moral. 
Some time ago, it males na when, 

The Devil left his brimstone den, 

Owre sea and land, to rage and tear, 

Like Russian or Spitzbergcn bear. 

Through Europe first commenced his tour, 

In search of whom he might devour ; 

And having finished jobs in France, 

Crossed owre, his kingdom to advance. 

He like a meteor through the dark 

Shot forward to St. James's Park. 

There summon'd up his sooty legions. 

To send through a' the neighbouring regions. 

The trusty fiend sent to the city. 

In speed to execute his duty. 

Returned with word, that even in London, 

Two-thirds fair Virtue's cause abandon. 

But to detail their progress hideous. 

Would be a journal lang and tedious. 

Suificet, Nick left his suit in order. 

And joumey'd northward owre the border. 

And now, O listen to my tale ! 

For Satan has come near oursel : 

Ae night he lodg'd in Cruickston Castle 

(The trees then shook wi' eerie rustle ; 

to the Monastery. MotherA^'cll, in his ** Renfrewshire Characters and 
Scenery," p. 33, states that ** the street called Plunkin is by the genteel 
denominated Orchard Street. What the etymology of Plunkin is may 
be as difficult, for aught I know, to resolve as the etymology of Paisley 
itself, and that is sufficiently puzzling." The new streets in the ancient 
orchard were linked in doggerel — 

" Gordon's Lone and Prussia Street, 
And Plunkin at the end o' it." 



The roar of Old Caidonald linn 

Was mingled wi' unhalloVd din) ; 

Neist day he flew owre hedge and furrow, 

And quickly reached our native Iwirough, 

To find what ranlt or number there 

Might best deserve his special care. 

Incog, through street and lane he wan'ert, 

Syne to the head o' Tlunltin dan'ert ; 

There he, as nimble as a squirrel, 

Lap up on Sandy Fraser's barrel, 

Drew up his hairy breebs, and boasted, 

And thus the Plonkin Corks' accosted : 

" My worthy friends, I'm blylhe to hear 

That neither God nor man ye fear. 

But aften at this comer meeting. 

Canvas whose schemes are best for cheating. 

Ne'er suffer conscience to intrude — 

Be aye to poor folk harsh and rude. 

Nor listen to the voice of reason 

Against my develship — that's treason ! 

Screw hard the weaver till he curses '. 

That charms my ear and fills your purses. 

The profits frae sic schemes arising 

Hae long been great — indeed surprising. 

Bui what : my friends, I needna preach, 

Ye far exceed what I can teach ; 

Wi' satisfaction, I can see 

Ye're even fit to counsel me. 

Go on — my precepts still observe — 

And cheat and lie without reserve." 

This said— the Devil said nae mair— 

The Corks continueil still to stare, 

Syne bow'd in token o' allegiance, 

Ajid promis'd to give due obedience. 

' " Cork " H-as the vulgar or slang name given to the masier manulae- 
torers in Paisley. "Causeyside Corks" was a common expression at 
one lime, but it has very properly become almost obsolete. Jamleson 
says the term "most probably arose from their (the manufacturers) 
being generally light ; or in a commercial sense, without sulMtance, 
^ven to air; specwotions, and flo«ling on the surface of trade. " 


O, Paisley ! when thou burnt the hags ! 
The pranks they play'd were trifling plagues ; 
Tirring a house, or shaking com, 
Were mischiefs no that easy borne ; 
But Cork and Devil joining clutches, 
Far, far exceeds a league of witches. 
Now some may at this doctrine cavil, 
And question whether there is a devil. 
By tracing nature in her course. 
We find man*s wicked cause the source, 
And all the ills that ere befell. 
Spring frae his passions and his will. 
But settle the matter as you please, 
Who argues least, he gets most ease.* 


When to honour the birth of our favourite bard 

The lovers of genius join. 
The angels approve with a rapt'rous regard, 

And acknowledge the meeting divine. 
Let the proud hero boast of his muscular arm. 

Of wielding the ponderous steel ; 
But Bums hath bequeath'd a superior charm 

For souls that exaltedly feel. 

Our glorious bard, from a village obscure, 

Rushed forth like the comet's bright blaze ; 
The world of taste saw his genius pure. 

And pour'd to his merit their praise. 
Tho' the bard be no more, yet he lives in our love — 

O cherish the rapturous glow ! 
For his fame the gods have imprinted above. 

And with time it will journey below. 

The foregoing song, as already stated, was composed and 
sung by the author at the first meeting of the Paisley Bums 
Club, held in January, 1805. Tannahill, who acted as 

* This poetical piece first appeared in No. IV. of the periodical 
called the Gaberlunzie^ published in 1825, but it wants the first and 
the last paragraphs in the foregoing copy, which is taken from the 
minute-book of the Literary and Convivial Association. 


clerk on that important and interesting occasion, copied this 
song into the minute-book of the club. 


Where e'er it be, city or hamlet, our home, 
There is a charm interwoven with its name ; 
Ambition may lead us to some other spot. 
But the land of our fathers can ne'er be forgot, 
Nor the friendship aye so dear in our ain gude town. 

In our ain gude town we have ills to abide, 
Yet I'm fond of my birth-place whatever betide ; 
And whatever redounds to its glory or shame, 
I'll study to gi'e it a place and a name. 
So now for the folk in our ain gude town. 

In the trappings of office pufTd up and elate, 
Our petty authority's waddel'd in state ; 
But since law has allow'd us to choose from the throng. 
We find them with intellect fully as strong 
To manage afiairs in our ain gude town. 

A few we can trace 'mong the wealthiest class 
With feelings alive to their neighbours' distress. 
And warmly espousing humanity's cause, 
From the bulk of the Borough receiving applause. 
Its justly their due in our ain gude town. 

But, alas ! what a long and detestable list. 
With the goods of this world abundantly blest ; 
Yet it's fix'd on them firm the Egyptian curse ; 
A thief may escape, but the coin from their purse 
It will never get loose in our ain gude town. 

We have hjrpocrites, too, but their robes are too thin 
For hiding the hideous pictures within ; 
To all that's selfish, their souls they are sold ; 
There is nothing in nature so hard or so cold 
As the hearts of those wretches in our gude town. 

There are plenty of fops that are tickl'd with dress. 
On their good or their evil we canna lay stress ; 


Wi* the cork-headed dandies, that butterfly breed, 
Nae sensible person e'er fashes their head, 
As they splutter about in our ane gude town. 

With every grace can embellish the sex — 
Our maids would the heart of a stoic perplex ; 
For flattering females I hinna the gift, 
Though they look as if angels come dovi-n frae the lift, 
The lasses so fair in our ain gude town. 


Ye Bards who the beauties of Nature combine, 

And poetic pictures present us, 
There Is much yet to swell to harmonious line — 

With something that's new compliment us. 

To mention so frequent the blackbird and thrush 

'Tis certainly lavish and partial. 
In future, then, substitute tree for a bush, 

And crows among the list let us marshal. 

Allow me to point out with equal respect, 
True the dove may be kind to its marrow ; 

But why should ye pass it in silent neglect — 
As wondrous love in a sparrow. 

And then such a rant about heather and sheep ! 

The brooks must be murmuring rills ; 
The willow when drooping is said to weep, 

And the dew of the morning distils. 

Then every sensible critic's in pain 
How poets their language dispose : 

The clumsiest maidens on mountain or plain 
Must have skins like the lilly and rose. 

Lillies and roses did well in their place ; 

But the figure is hackney 'd and old. 
For me, I am fond of expression and grace, 

Tho* the cheeks were as yellow as gold. 



WILLIAM CHALMERS was bom at Paisley in 1779. 
He carried on the business of a tobacconist and grocer in 
High Street, but a reverse in business compelled him to re- 
sort to other means to obtain a livelihood. When many of 
the feuars in the town raised, in 1824, an action in the Court 
of Session against the Magistrates and Town Council re- 
garding the casualties of non-entry payable by the town's 
vassals, Mr. Chalmers's name was the first on the list, and 
the pursuers were known by the designation of Chalmers and 
others. He paid much attention to the changes in the 
weather for a period of thirty years, and gave the result of 
his experience in a pamphlet he published in 1839. It was 
entitled " Observations on the Weather in Scotland, showing 
what kind of Weather the various Winds produce, and what 
Winds are most likely to prevail in each Month of the Year ; 
also, a Garden Calendar adapted for Cottars and Others." 
He died at Paisley on 3rd November, 1843. 

He was also a poet of some merit ; but his poetry, which 
was never collected, appeared only in periodicals and news- 
papers. What follows is a specimen : — 


** O, lassie, wilt thou go 
To the Lomond wi* me ? 
The wild thyme's in bloom, 
And the flower's on the lea ; 
Wilt thou, my dearest love ? 
I will ever constant prove, 
I'll range each hill and grove, 
On the Lomond wi' thee." 



O, young men are fickle, 

Not trusted to be, 
And many a native gem 
Shines fair on the lea ; 

Thou ma/st see some lovely flower, 
Of a more attractive power, 
And may take her to thy bower, 
On the Lomond wi* thee." 

'* The hind shall forsake 

On the mountain the doe, 
The stream of the fountain 
Shall cease for to flow ; 

Ben Lomond shall bend 
His high brow to the sea, 
Ere I take to my bower 

Any flower, love, but thee." 

She's taken her mantle, 
He's taken his plaid ; 
He coft her a ring. 
And he made her his bride. 
They're far on yon hills, 
To spend their happy days. 
And range the woody glens, 
Amang the Lomond Braes. 


^iV— "The Pride of the Broomlands." 
Sing on, thou little bird, 
Thy wild notes sae loud, 

O sing, sweetly sing frae the tree ; 
Aft beneath thy birken bow'r 
I have met at evening hour 

My young Jamie that's far o'er the sea. 

On yon bonnie heather knowes 

We pledged our mutual vows. 
And dear is the spot unto me ; 

Though pleasure I hae nane, 

While I A^'ander alane, 
And my Jamie is far o'er the sea. 



Bnt why tboald T monm, 



And verduie again clolhe the lea ; 

The flow'rets shall spring, 

And ihe sofl breeze shall bring 
\ly clear laddie again back to me. 

Thou slar 1 give thy light. 

Guide m; lover aright, 
Fiae rocks and frae shoals keep him free ; 

Now gold I hae in store. 

He shall wander no more. 
No, no more shall he sail on the sea. 

Oh, saw ye Willie frae Ihe west ? 

Oh. saw ye Willie in Iii= glee? 
Oh, sow ye Willie frae the west. 

When he had got his wig a-jee ? 
There's " Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled," 

He towers it up in sic a key ; 
Oh, saw ye Willie, hearty lad, 

When he had got his wig a-jee. 
To hear him sing a canty air. 

He lilts it o'er sae charmingly. 
That in a moment aff flees care, 

When Willie gets bis wig a-jee. 
Let drones croon o'ei a u'inter night, 

A fig for them, whate'er they be. 
For I could sit till morning light, 

Wi' Willie and his wig a-jee. 
At kirk on Sundays, sic a change 

Comes o'er his w^, anil mou', and e'c, 
Sae douce — yoa'd think a cannon ball 

Wad scarce ca' Willie's wig a-jee. 
But when on Mondays he begins. 

And rants and roais continually. 
Till ilk owk'i end, the very weam 

Gang daft — when Willie's wig's a-jee. 



7'hh— "Lcwit Gordon.' 
O, love delights in sunny Ixiwer, 
'Mid sunny rays, like summer flower, 

But when the storms o' winter blaw. 
Its fairest beauties &de awa' 

The rose in ynath may please awhile, 
And yotttbfal days wi' joy beguile ; 
The lily, ton, with snowy crest. 
May lean upon the rose's breast, 
But love delights, &c. 

Wlial though the rose's blushes fade, 
And lilies droop beneath the shade ; 
la donnant life they still remain. 
To grow, to bud, to bloom again. 
But love delights, &c. 



JAMES GOLDIE taught a school in Paisley. In the 
"Paisley Directory "of 181 2 he is designated as "James 
Goldie, teacher, High Street." I have been unable to learn 
anything relating to the public life of Mr. Goldie. There is 
one little item, however, revealed by the verses appended, 
viz., that he detested the custom, which generally prevailed 
at that period, of teachers encouraging their pupils to pre- 
sent them with Candlemas or New Year offerings or gifts. 
He was a writer of verse, and his indignation was so great 
at this "beggarly" practice, as he termed it, that it culmi- 
nated in his writing a poetical piece on the subject, which 
he published in the shape of a pamphlet in 181 9. This 
poem I give as a specimen of his muse ; indeed, I am not 
aware that he brought any of his other productions under 
the eye of the public. 


All ye who children have at school, 

About the Candlemas time, 
O, do not let the teacher snool, 

In silver make them shine. 

For if that ye send copper there, 

They'll put them on a desk, 
With fingers point, and at them stare. 

This is their Candlemas task. 

It is well known, this was the ca^e 
In a school in a certain place. 
And yet the teacher still docs shine. 
And talks about the use of time. 


Nay, verily, he makes his boast. 
That no time in his school is lost ; 
Is this law, human or divine ? 
Tell me, ye who in knowledge shine. 

If there is one in all this place 
That will so much himself disgrace. 
To say that ever thb he saw 
In law — divine or human law. 

If he sa3rs so, it is imcivil ; 
By doing this, he serves the d-v-1. 
A meaner trick was never known : 
These* offerings then must be o'erthro\ni. 

Barbers,^ tailors, every trade, 
Think shame of it, by all 'tis said, 
For shame, ye that pretend to teach, 
And you that's on the way to preach. 

Let it ne*er be said, for shame, 
That offerings ye will take again ; 
The 'prentice boys of barbers, bakers, 
Even tailors' bo)rs are not partakers. 

They're all ashamed to have it said 
A contribution's for them made ; 
But dominies hold up their faces, 
And thank the boys with Latin phrases, 

And think the parents full of skill 
Who well the children's hands do fill ; 
If learning does not make us better, 
We'd better never learn a letter. 

If learning does improve the mind, 
Let teachers over others shine ; 
And let us not have them to blame 
For doing things that cause us shame. 

^ Giving up their annual Christmas-Box and other things equally low 
and distasteful. 



Ve teachers atl, in every pUce, 
Give o'er this iK^arly disgrace ; 
And let oar names to after ages 
Be handed down among the sages. 

In Scripture yon these words will find, 
A gift it Qiaketh vise men blind ; 
Of Candlemas the most will own. 
The money's given with a frown. 

Will money given Ihtis do good, 
In buying clothing, drink, or food ? 
Candlemas dominies' debts are paying ; 
Bat, hold, 1 had forgot (he saying — 

The very merchants, as Ihey pass. 
Cry, " Dominies pay at Candlemas ;" 
Thus wantonly the folk do sneer 
At dominies' ill-gotten gear. 

Each one among them that has spirit. 
And who deserves the name of merit. 
Will never again take a bribe. 
For to disgrace the dominie tribe. 

They will reply, that men of knowledge- 
Nay, even Professors in the Cotlq;e — 
Comphments do often take i 
Of this you no excuse can make. 

Yoa've more excuses jiisi as light — 
Nay, all your powers won't make it right 
It is in every shape absurd, 
In its fcvour you can't say a word. 

It U so mean, so tow, so base. 
It must be true what each one says ; 
The poor are oft by it despised, 
The rich are llatter'd, caress'd, prii'd. 

Equality should bear the rule 
In every regulated school ; 
' EquaUty, that cannot be. 
When more is given than the fee. 


Were Candlemas offerings refused. 
The poor then would not be misused ; 
But there are teachers who have sense, 
And taVe with pleasure even pence. 

But yet 'tis proper that they mitid, 
A gift il maketh wise men blind ; 
I Iherribre hope, for justice sake, 
That Candlemas offenng they'll not take. 

But give it up in every school, 
And stop those who would ridicule 
A class of men of so much use. 
Subjected to so much abuse. 
And who deserve so much respect, 
However much we them neglect. 

Let eveiyone who children have 
To dominies honestly behave. 
And warn their children (o obey 
Their teachers both by night and day. 


was bom in Reading, Berkshire, i6th November, 1780. 
His lather, Robert Smith, a native of East Kilbride, was a 
silk weaver in Paisley, but left in consequence of bad trade, 
and went to Reading. In 1800 he returned to Paisley with 
his family. In 1S02 R. A. Smith, who was a weaver to 
trade, married Mary Nicol, a respectable native of Arran. 
In 1803 he joined the band of the Second Regiment of 
Volunteers, commonly called the "Gentle Corps." He 
shortly afterwards commenced to teach music; and in 1807 
was appointed the conductor of the choir in the Abbey 
Church. This choir, after a time, had not an equal in any 
of our Presbyterian Churches. Mr. Smith was a warm and 
intimate friend of Tannahili In 1810 he published 
"Devotional Music." 

On 4th June, 181 7, the eightieth birth-day of King George 
III., a grand peribnnance of vocal devotional music, 
accompanied with appropriate instruments, took place in 
the Abbey Church, with the consent of the heritors and the 
enlightened pastor, the Rev. Mr. Boc^. I believe this was 
the first musical performance of the kind that took place 
within the walls of the Abbey, but it proved the prelude to 
many more in successive years. This sacred concert was 
under the patronage of the Earl of Glasgow and the most 
of the noblemen in the county. Mr. R. A. Smith, so 
deservedly celebrated for his exquisite skill in all that 
belonged to melody and harmony, was the composer of 
much of the music, and leader of the choir on this occasion. 

Mr. Smith's musical taste was rare and refined, and his 


sacied compositions are very numerous, and will always 
lemain models of simple grandeur and devotional feeling. 
In his manners Mr. Smith was extremely retiring, but most 
amiable and kind-hearted, and universally liked wherever he 
was known. 

Mr. Smith was present at the first meeting of the Paisley 
Bums Club, held in January, 1805, and while he remained 
in Paisley was a r^ular and welcomed attendant at the 
meetings of the members. He and Tannahill were intimate 
acquaintances ; and he set to music several of Tannahill's 
best songs, and otherwise he gave our lyric bard many 
useftil hints relating to the composition of his songs, which 
contributed greatly to their value and popularity. 

In 1819 Mr. Smith published "Anthems," in four parts. 
He afterwards, between 1821 and 1824, published his great 
work, in six volumes, entitled, " The Scottish Minstrel," In 
1823 he removed from Paisley to Edinburgh, to become the 
conductor of the choir in St. George's Church. In 1825 he 
published the " Irish Minstrel," in two volumes ; and in 1826 
a work, entitled, "An Introduction to Singing, &c." In 
1817 appeared the first part of his new work, called 
"Select Melodies, Sic." At the end of rSzS his health, 
which had not been good for some time, gave way in a 
serious manner, and after a fortnight's severe illness, he died 
on 3rd January, 1829, In the forty-ninth year of his age. 
Mr. Smith, besides being an eminent composer of music, 
was also a poet, and several of his songs have been printed, 
of which I give specimens. 


Who is the sleeping j^ulh Ihat lies 

Wilhin my greenwood bower^ 
The clusters of his yellow hair 

All dripping in ihe show'r? 


Oh ! by his bonnet's faded plume 

His plaid so rudely torn ; 
He seems some weary traveller 

Deserted and forlorn. 

But gaze upon that open brow, 

That graceful form survey ; 
Those looks, though gentle, do not seem 

Accustomed to obey ; 
And see, the wind has blown aside 

The sleeper's tatter'd vest ; 
And is not that a Royal star 

Which glitters on his breast ? 

Yes, my beloved, forsaken Prince, 

On female aid relies ; 
Can death young Flora's courage daunt ? 

No^for her King she dies ! 
Sleep on, my Prince, securely sleep. 

Let every doubt depart. 
The foe that would thy slumbers break 

Must pierce my faithful heart. 

These verses refer to the escape, after Culloden, of Prince 
Charles Stewart, when Flora MacDonald was so prominent 
and so adventurous an agent in his deliverance. 


( With a cross made of a fragment of one of the ships of the Spanish 
Armada f which was wrecked off the Island of Mull ^ /sS8. ) 

When o*er the dark Atlantic wave 

The proud Armada held their way ; 
Flushed with the hopes a tyrant gave. 

They sought the spot where Britain lay. 

But, see ! her lion-heart is bold — 

'Tis roused to meet the coming foe ; 
And, armed with strength, she'll calm behold 

The gathering storm of death and woe. 


Spain's mighty bulwarks scaltered fly, 
The wave Jias hid liieir giint form ; 

And while loud thunders rend the sky, 
They haste— but cannot 'scape the stori 

A relic of that tieel is mine ;— 
(Let haughty Spain lament her loss ;) 

Oh ! wear it on that breast of thine. 
Dear lady— wear this simple cross. 




This pledge of affection, dear Ellen, receive. 

From a youth who's devoted lo thee ; 
AtHi when on the relic you look, love, believe, 

Thy Edward still constant will be. 
The gift ihou hast woven I'll wear near my heart. 

And ofi the dear token will prove 
A charm to dispel every gluom, and impart 

A joyful remembrance of love. 

Nay, weep not, sweet maid, though thy sailor awhile 

Must roam o'er the boisterous main ; 
Fond hope kindly whispers that fortune will smile. 

And we shall meet happy again ; 
One embrace ere we pan, — see, the vessel's unmoor'd. 

The signal floats high in our view ; 
The last boat yet lingers to waft me on board, — 

Adieu, dearest Ellen, adieu ! 

(Sfl la 

ii by himsdf.) 

Adown the green dell, near the Abbey rerr 

All under the willow he lies ; 
There, by the pale moonlight, Maria comp 

And sad, to the njght'breeze, she sighs. 

154 r.\isLi:\ r(ji;rs. 

*' Oil : it i^ 11' 'I I lie .lew -■'.•-;> .^.!-:;; - !l;c wil'l rn^c 
On the brier-l)()und ^ravc ol my .ii ii ; 

I could not but weep while I prayed hi^ ie[)M>v, 
And the bright trembling drop is— a tear.*' 

Mr. Smith presided at the anniversary meeting of the 
Paisley Burns Club on 29th January, 18 16, to celebrate the 
birth of the bard. I copy the following from the minute- 
book of that club : — 

" The Bums Club, with their friends, upwards of eighty 
in number, met in the Renfrewshire Tontine, to commemo- 
rate the birth of their favourite bard, and at seven o'clock 
evening sat down to an elegant supper — R. A. Smith, pre- 
sident ; Hugh Turnbull, croupier. Immediately after supper, 
the fine old Canon, * Non nobis domine,' was sung by 
Messrs. Smith, Stewart, and Urquhart ; after which, the Pre- 
sident rose and expressed his happiness at witnessing such 
a numerous and highly-respectable assemblage of the ad- 
mirers of the bard whose birth they were that day met to 
celebrate, but regretted that it was not in his power to 
accede to the usual custom of delivering an address from 
the chair. As he had never been accustomed to speak in 
public, he felt himself quite incapable of such a task. He 
had, however, thrown loosely together some few sentences 
for the occasion, and he craved the particular indulgence of 
being allowed to sing them. This request being unani- 
mously granted, the cloth was removed from a pianoforte, 
which had served as a centre-table at the head of the room, 
with which he accompanied himself, whilst he sang the fol- 
lowing irregular stanzas to extempore music (chorus ex- 
cepted) — the music for which is recorded in the minute- 
book of this date : — 

Again the circling year 

Returns the natal day 

Of Scotia's favourite bard ; 

With joy we assemble, 

To show our regard to his memory, 

And pay the tribute 

Due to his powerful genius. 

Chorus — Largo — by Stewart, Smith, and Urquhart — 
Peace to his shade, let us twine a wreath to his fame, 
Let us twine, let us twine a wreath to his fame. 


I^t lu be united in social friendship, 
And, as (he enliventng glass goes round, 
Raise the song to Biirns, 
Great Master of the Caledonia lyre, 
Who sweetly sang of love 
And all its joys and pains, 
Whose magic touch 
Could move the soul to pity. 
Thrill the heart with ecstacy, 
: [lerve the patriot's arm to deeds of high rer 

Let us twine a wreath to his fame. 

His memory will be fondly cherished by his grateful country ; 
While the varied beauties of nature shall give delight, 
His songs will impart rapture. 

Cradle of the Brave! 

What, though no mantling vine adorns thy ru^ed brow. 
The hardy thistle and the healher-bell 
Form a wild chapkl, dearer far, 
To freedom's hallowed eye. 

Romantic land ! I love thy rocky steeps, 
Thy mountain torrents and thy woody glens. 
Where humble virtue, in the peasant cot. 
With blest conlentment, still delights to dwell ; 
And hospitality, with open amii, 
Keceives the wandering stranger at the door. 

Here no treachery lurks— 
No vile assassin, wilh demon -smile. 

Can wear a friendly mask. 
And plunge the steel into hLs victim's heart. 

No I such base deeds belong 

To climes where fragrant myrtles scent the aii. 

Where golden orange groves delight the eye. 

Where crouching slaves obey the tyrant's nod. 

And nature smiles in vain. 

Then Caledonia, dear to me thy hills. 

Though bleak and bare thy lofty summits rise. 

For ihou hast ever been the freeman's sacred home. 


And dear ti> me the lowly poet's lay, 

Who Strang anew fair Scotia's olden haq>, 

And true to nature waked its slumbering tones. 

And bade them hiealhe of love ; 

Who sung the praises of bis native land 

In never-dying cadence, and inspiretl 

By freedom's spirit, struck the magic cords 

Wilh nil n minstrel's fire. 

The remainder of the record of this meeting's procedure 
is as follows, and throws some light upon the way our fore- 
fathers spent their social and literary evenings on occasions 
of this kind, seventy-three years ago :^ 

" This eulogy to Burns and Caledonia was well received. 
A bumper was filled and dnmk in solemn silence to the 
memory of the bard. 

" Then followed a number of excellent toasts and senti- 
ments, chiefly given by the Chairman and Croupier, accord- 
ing to previous arrangement ; nor in the festal hour were 
the beautiful lyrics of Bums forgotten. Many of them were 
sung to favourite Scottish melodies in the true style of 
native simplicity, which never can fail to affect and delight 
the unsophisticated admirers of nature. 

" A tribute to the memory of departed genius, written by 
Dr. Craig, one of the early members of the club, was also 
sung to original music by the President. 

" This elegant little composition was greeted by the com- 
pany wilh the applause it so justly merited. 

" At a seasonable time of the evening, the President, in 
name of Archibald Speirs, Esq., M.P. for the County, pre- 
sented the club with an Ale Caup made of the Wallace Oak 
at Elderslie, which was received as a most estimable relic ; 
and a very suitable reply was returned for the society by 
Mr. Robert Lang, who occupied the croupier's chair at the 



moment The caup being filled with ' reamin' nappy,' 
every person present drank from it, and gave a sentiment, 
agreeable to (he general custom of the club. The inspira- 
tion of the moment gave birth to many effusions worthy of 
the occasion, and the round was finished with a joyous 
' three-times-three,' hands linked in hands around the festive 

" The remainder of the evening was spent in the happiest 
manner, and in due time the com|)any departed to their re- 
spective homes, highly gratified with the mental treat which 
they had so eminently enjoyed." 



JOHN WILSON (better known as Professor Wilson and 
Christopher North) was born at No. 40 High Street, Paisley, 
i8th May, 1785. His ancestors had long carried on 
business in Paisley as successful merchants. In the list of 
the inhabitants of Paisley, taken in 1695 for the poll-tax 
then to be exacted, I find "John Wilson, mert, worth 500 
mks., 2 lib., 16 sh. general pole; Isabel Holmes, spouse, 6 
sh. ; John and Elizabeth, his children, each 6 sh." This 
John Wilson was the great-grandfather of Professor Wilson. 
John Wilson, the child mentioned in the poll-tax list, was 
the grandfather of the Professor. He married Janet 
Finlayson, daughter of William Finlayson, merchant in 
Paisley. In 1732 he purchased the properties No. 40 and 
41 High Street, Paisley, and on the steading of the former 
number he built a mansion-house, which is still in good 
condition. He had three children — William, a merchant ; 
John (the father of the Professor), a merchant and manu- 
facturer; and James, a writer. John Wilson, the grand- 
father of the Professor, was chosen a Ikilie of Paisley in 
1747, and again in 1750. He died i8th March, 1764, aged 
eighty years, and left the property. No. 40 High Street, to 
his son, John Wilson, the father of the Professor, who 
married Margaret Sym. He was a Town Councillor in 
1782. The birth-place of the Professor was in the ground 
flat of the mansion-house. No. 40 High Street, already 
mentioned (and not in the old warehouse belonging to his 
fiither behind it, which has been recently converted into a 
meeting-place called the "Wilson Hall"). He was born 
shortly before the elegant mansion at No. 42 High Street 
was built as the family residence. 


The future Professor was first sent to the Town's English 
School inSchoolWynd — head -master, Mr. James Peddie — 
to receive his elementary education ; and he was afterwards 
sent to the manse of Meams, to be under the superin- 
tendence of the Rev. Dr. M'Letchie, the |>arish minister, a 
superior I^tin and Greek scholar. The rural sports were 
there learned, including trout fishing, which Wilson in his 
future life so greatly indulged in and so much enjoyed ; and 
he frequently, afterwards, referred to them in Bl<uhvood's 
Magazine. At the age of thirteen, after the death of his 
father,' he left the Meams manse, and became a student in 

' At ihLs time Mrs. Wilson, wilb her numerous sons and daughteis, 
removed to Edinburah. Her youngest son and Child, James \ViI50n, 
was bom in 1795. When about eighteen years of age he entered the 
ofEtce of Messis. M'Keniie & Monypenny, and commenced the usual 
training of a prospective Writer (othe Signet ; but this profes-sion he did 
not cany out, aa he did not require to do so. Like his brother John, 
his literary attainments were of the highest order. In 1S16, when 
Blittlaoeoat Magazmt commenced iL-i career, he conlribuled several 
articles to the first number. lie matried Miss Keilh, Edinburgh, in 
18x4, an<i hLs wife entcreit heartily into all hi^ various pursuits of 
natural history, of which he was so fond. In 1S41 Wilson, in company 
with Sir Thomas Dick Lauiicr, visilcil Che -Scottish coasts and islands, 
on board the (k^vemment cutter " I' Royal." By the end of the 
following year, the incidents in this tour were published in i vols., under 
tbe title, " A Voyage Rounil the Coasts of Scotland and the Isles." It 
i* a highly inlere-ting and able work. P'rom the lime when he had 
nearly reached his thirtieth year, he had to contend uiih bad health. 
Knl he never ceased pursuing his favourite work ax a naturalist. lie 
diefl on l8th May, 1856. Tli^. imlu>try was such that he published 
many valuable scientific works, lie was, like his brother the I'rofessor, 
an honour 10 the town of his nativity. 

The following is a list of most of his works :— 

"Illnslralions of Zoology ; bnng Representations of New, Rare, or 
Remarkable Subjects of the Animal Kingdom. Drih-d and Coloured 
after Nature, with Historical and Descriptive lletails." Kolio. 1S31. 

" Entomoiogia ICdinensis ; or, a Descnptiim of the Insects Found in 
the Neighbourhooii of Edinburgh." 1834. This work was prepared 
conjointly by Mr. Wilson and the Rev. James Duncan. 

"The Rod and the Gun." 1840. The 'Gun' section wasuTidenby 
the author of " Oakleigh Shooting Code." 

of Scripture, by an Animal Painter. With Notes by 

] the seventh edition of the 


Glasgow University, where he studied Greek under Pro- 
fessor Young ; but it was under Jardine, the distinguished 
Professor of Logic, that a decided mental impulse was first 
imparted to Wilson, which he afterwards so successfully 
carried out. Although foremost at college in every kind of 
recreation, and famous for his feats of agility and strength, 
he never allowed these to interfere with the prosecution of 
his work as a student. In June, 1803, he entered Magdalene 
College, Oxford, as a gentleman commoner, where his 
genius as a poet was first demonstrated by his obtaining the 
first Newdigate prize of forty guineas. After concluding a 
course of four years at Oxford, having succeeded to his 
portion of his father's estate of ;£3 0,000, he bought the 
beautiful property of Elleray, on the high grounds on the 
east bank of the Windermere Lake, where he went to reside 
in 1807. In this delightful spot he had every opportunity 
of indulging his poetical genius, and also of enjoying those 
outside recreations of which he was so passionately fond. 

When Wilson left college, he made up his mind to be a 
member of the Scottish Bar, and was enrolled an advocate 
in 181 5. In the same year he suffered great pecuniary loss 
through the conduct of a maternal uncle, and this caused 
him to remove from Elleray to Edinburgh. He was by no 
means an industrious advocate, for he had commenced his 
literary career by the publication of an elegy on the death 

'* Encyclopaidia Britannica," he contributed *' Angling," ** Animal 
Kingdom, '" Animalciila," "Entomology," ** Hclminthology," *' Ich- 
thyology," ** Mammalia," "Ornithology," ** Reptiles and Seqients." 
And to the eighth edition of that work he contributed "Fisheries" 
and " Edward Forbes." 

He wrote for the Edinburgh Cabinet Library the " Zoology of India, 
China, Africa, and the Northern Regions of North America." 

For the Quarterly Kn>uru> he wrote two papers ; for the North British 
Rn>icw he v\'as the author of six papers ; for Blachivood^s Magazine he 
wrote thirteen papers, mostly on natural history. To other works he 
was also a contributor. 


of the Rev. James Graham, author of "The Sabbath." He 
likewise composed some beautiful stanzas, entitled the 
" Magic Mirror," which appeared in the Annual Register for 
iSia. In the same year he published "The Isle of 
Palms and other Poems," extending to 415 pages, 8vo size. 
In 1816 he published "The City of the Plague," a dramatic 
poem. His next publications were prose tales and sketches, 
entitled " Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life," " Foresters," 
and "The Trials of Margaret Lindsay." In 1817, Black- 
u<60d's Magatine was established, in opposition to the 
Edinburgh Rn'iew, and " Christopher North " was its living 
soul and support. 

In 1820, the Chair of Moral Philosophy in the Edinburgh 
University became vacant by the death of Dr. Thomas 
Brown, and Wilson offered him.self as a candidate. After a 
severe contest, he was elected. ^Valter (afterwards Sir 
Walter) Scott threw all his influence into the scale in support 
of Wilson. His competitor was Sir William Hamilton, who 
was preferred by the students. The Professor's first lecture 
is thus described by an eye-witness : — 

" There was a furious bitterness of feeling against Wilson 
among the classes of which probably most of his pupils 
would consist, and although I had no i>rospect of being 
among them, I went to his first lecture prepared to join in 
a cabal which I understood was formed to put him down. 
The lecture-room was crowded to the ceiling. Such a col- 
lection of hard-browed, scowUng Scotchmen, muttering over 
their knobsticks, I never saw. The Professor entered with 
a bold step, amid profound silence. Everyone expected 
some deprecatory or propitiatory introduction of himself and 
his subject, upon which die ma^s was to decide against him, 
reason or no reason ; but lie entered in a voice of thunder 
right into the matter of his lecture, and kept up unflinch- 
ingly and unhesitatingly, without a pause, a flow of rhetoric 
such as Dugald Stewart or Thomas Brown, his predecessors, 
never delivered in the same place. Not a word, not a 


murmur escaped his captivated — I ought to say his con- 
quered — audience, and at the end they gave him a right- 
down, unanimous burst of applause. Those who came to 
scoff remained to praise." 

On the nth February, 1831, the friends and old pupils of 
Mr. James Peddie, of the Paisley Town's English School, 
entertained him at a public jubilee dinner in the hall of the 
Renfrewshire Tontine Inn, Paisley, and Professor Wilson, 
one of his old pupils, acted as chairman. On the chair- 
man's right was the guest of the evening, Mr. Peddie, his 
first preceptor, and on his left the Rev. Dr. M*Letchie, of 
Meams, his second preceptor. After proposing the usual 
loyal and patriotic toasts in brilliant language, he gave the 
toast of the evening, ** Mr. Peddie," in a speech of manly 
eloquence, which is given at length at p. 302 of my 
" History of the Paisley Grammar School." 

The Professor, in replying to the toast of his own health, 
among other things, said — 

** That it sometimes fell to his lot to hear his health dnmk 
in assemblies like the present, but never on any occasion 
had it come home to his heart with so much warmth, or did 
he feel so proudly as at that moment. (Cheering.) During 
his long absence from his native town, he did not know 
what might sometimes have been thought of his public con- 
duct, but he hoped the best, and he confessed he would not 
have ventured to make his appearance on the present occa- 
sion had he imagined he would have been received with the 
cold eye of disdain. He accepted the tribute of applause 
with which he had been welcomed as an earnest that his 
conduct had been approved of. (Cheers.) His whole soul 
had been aroused as he entered the place of his nativity ; 
his heart became awakened within him as he reached the 
place where his father's house was situated, for with the in- 
significant genius he was possessed of, he laid claim to the 
spirit of domesticism, and revered * home, sweet home.' 
He confessed that he was not without ambition, but he had 
done little to justify the praise of those partial persons, the 


friends of his youth ; still, he would say the heart did not 
beat that venerated a Scotchman more than himself, and he 
would shed the last drop of his blood ere an invader would 
be permitted to set his foot on Scottish soil. With regard 
to his claim of personal independence, he did not deny that 
he had been indebted to the industry, honesty, and integrity 
of his worthy father ; but he would appeal to many present 
who knew him intimately, whether he had not always been 
devoted to study, and particularly to the cause of truth ? 
and whether he had not through a long course of years 
maintained himself with the labour of his brain, and over 
the midnight lamp spent many a thoughtful hour ? He laid 
claim to liberty, nor was there one man who more cheer- 
fully would kneel down under Wallace's Tree at Elderslie 
and offer himself up a sacrifice in defence of his country's 
rights. (Cheers.) After some further remarks in the Pro- 
fessor's usual eloquent manner, he concluded by stating 
that the expression of his feelings had been elicited by the 
favour shown towards him by the meeting, a kindness which 
he would never forget. He sat down amidst the most 
deafening shouts of applause." 

The dinner party was a most successful one, and the 
speeches delivered were so long and the enthusiasm so great 
and unanimous, that the Professor had to remain " firm at 
his post until three o'clock in the morning before the com- 
pany broke up." (Report of Jubilee Dinner to Mr. James 
Peddie, p. 31.) 

At the Professor's visit to Paisley at this time, the freedom 
of the town was conferred on him by the Provost, Magis- 
trates, and Town Council. The minute of the Council 
states that, ** in consideration not only of his distinguished 
literary attainments, but of his public and private virtues, 
they created John Wilson, Esq., Professor of Moral Philo- 
sophy in the University of Edinburgh, an honorary burgess 
of the burgh of Paisley, his native town, with the usual pri- 

On the 9th August, 1836, a public dinner was given by 
the inhabitants of Paisley to Professor Wilson, as a mark of 



the high estimation in which they held his splendid genius, 
his intellectual powers, and his moral worth. The demand 
for tickets was very great, but the Committee having limited 
the number to correspond with the size of the room (about 
270), great numbers were disappointed. There would have 
been no difficulty in selling 500 tickets, for, besides his 
townsmen, great numbers from all parts of the surrounding 
country flocked in to share in the festival and honour the 
man. A guinea of premium on tickets was frequently 
offered and . refused. Sheriff Campbell was in the chair, 
with the distinguished guests, Professor Wilson, on his right, 
and Thomas Campbell, the author of " The Pleasures of 
Hope," on his left ; William Bissland, John Orr, Thomas 
Sharp, and Robert Farquharson, Esqs., croupiers. After 
the preliminary toasts. 

Sheriff Campbell, in a long and able speech, proposed the 
toast, " Length of happy days and still increasing fame to 
Professor Wilson," which was received with the most rap- 
turous applause. 

Professor Wilson, in reply, said — 

" The last time he had the happiness of visiting his 
native town, in 1831, was to preside at a dinner to an 
amiable and talented individual, Mr. James Peddie, who 
was his first teacher, and who had taught many of the gentle- 
men whom he now had the pleasure to see around him. Mr. 
Peddie's declining years were cheered by that public dinner, 
which did honour to his scholars and the town of Paisley. 
(Cheers.) It was an easy task to perform the duties of the 
chair on the occasion alluded to, but now the case was dif- 
ferent, for he had to speak for himself. He would do so 
both with humility and pride, not that pride which puffeth 
up, but that honest pride which every man must feel placed 
in his situation. (Cheers.) He felt assured that they would 
not have bestowed the honours of a public dinner on him if 
they thought he was not deserving of it. (Cheers.) This 
was an occasion on which they did not do so much honour 


to him as to themselves, though he was not like his friend, 
Mr. Campbell, who had climbed to the highest pinnacle of 
the temple of fame. (Cheers.) But if he (Mr. W.) had been 
denied this honour, it had not been denied him to cull some 
flowers as he passed along, on which it was- thought by his 
too partial friends the eye might rest. (Cheers.) It had 
been said that he who only reached mediocrity in poetry must 
be considered to have failed. In literature there were many 
fields and many flowers to be culled, for they were spread 
beneath their feet ; and if he understood the names of a few 
of these flowers he would feel satisfied. There did not exist 
on earth a man more free from envy in the walks of litera- 
ture. He had never blighted the hopes nor checked the 
ardour of the young aspirant after fame ; it was rather his 
wish to lead them gently forward, and point the path which 
they ought to tread. (Applause.) He considered the 
honour they had that day bestowed on him was intended 
to brighten his own fireside, because it came from the 
genuine feeHngs of the heart, and he accepted of it as such. 
(Cheers.) He had never been the organ of any coterie, but 
have always written and acted upon independent principles. 
Many bursts of vituperation had been poured out against 
him, but he possessed some of that stern stuff which enabled 
him to meet them with calmness ; and if all the kind favours 
which he had received from his friends were summed up, 
they would amply repay and recompense him. (Cheers.) 
ITiis meeting would not have taken place had they not ap- 
proved of those principles which he had advocated, and 
their approbation would cheer him on in his literary career. 
(Loud cheers.) The worthy chairman had drawn a very 
flattering and overcharged picture of his (Mr. W.'s) character 
(cries of * No, no '), and had, like some painters, thrown any 
little discrepancies into the shade. In the love of the 
beauties of nature in his native land he was excelled by 
none, for he had wandered by her rivers, her lakes, and her 
fountains, until he had almost fancied he was a poet, and 
that he heard Nature calling on him to depict her beauties. 
(Cheers.) Though he had been many times a solitary wan- 
derer, he had never been a misanthrope, for he had gone 
there to witness and cherish the scenes of nature. He had 
studied human nature in the splendid mansion and in the 



humble cottage, for much was to be learned in the latter ; 
and if in describing these scenes he was on some occasions 
* inspired/ it justified in some measure the applause which 
they had been pleased to bestow on him. (Cheers.) Before 
sitting down, however, he begged leave to say a (ew words 
on a subject which all men were at liberty to speal; upon. 
He believed in the sincerity of their opinions — they all had 
the same end in view — they honoured the independence of 
their native land, though they might differ as to the means 
to be used to accomplish this. (Cheers.) He had not 
sought for virtue among the higher classes only, but he had 
also diligently sought for it (and had not been disappointed) 
among the peasantry of oiu: country, who among their hills 
and their glens worshipped God in the same fervent spirit 
as their forefathers had done. He had but a few words to 
add. He had not forgotten that he was their townsman ; 
he honoured and respected the inhabitants of the beautiful 
town of Paisley, but it was greatly altered since he used to 
ramble through it forty years ago. Many parts of it which 
were associated with it in his memory were now gone. He 
missed the trees and the bushes where the linnet used to 
build its nest, and the gardens where the carnations and 
pinks were raised, of which the Paisley weavers were so 
fond. He had rambled to Hammils-head, where in his 
youth he had spent so many happy days, and found it much 
the same as when he left it ; but he missed what was once 
an object of interest to him — the '' Wee Steeple." (Tre- 
mendous applause.) He hoped that on Sunday he would 
sit in the same pew in which he formerly sat with his 
parents, and would walk on that spot in which his fathers 
were interred. (Mr. W. was evidently much affected at tliis 
part of his speech.) Were his parents alive, they would 
shed a tear of joy on learning the honours that had been 
conferred on him this day. He begged leave to conclude 
with drinking all their good healths.'' (At the conclusion of 
Mr. Wilson's speech, the whole company rose, waved their 
handkerchiefs, and gave three resounding cheers.) 

On 1 8th February, 1846, when Mr. John Henning, a 
native of Paisley, and modeller of the celebrated Elgin 
marbles, was entertained at a public dinner in the hall of 


the Saracen's Head Inn, Paisley, Professor Wilson was by 
invitation also present.' In reply to the toast of his health, 
he showed in a forcible speech that he was still the " old 
inan eloquent" At this time, also, the " Town Council 
uoanimously created and admitted their eminent townsman, 
Jtdin Henning, Esq., London, an honorary burgess and 
freeman of the burgh, in token of the high sense the com- 
munity entertained of his private worth and distinguished 
talents as an artist." 

The inhabitants of Paisley raised a fund to have a bust of 
Professor Wilson ; and James Fillans, artist, was engaged to 
cany this out. This marble bust was placed in the Paisley 
Coffee-Room, and on the 26ih August, 1848, it was un- 
covered in the presence of a large assemblage of gentlemen. 
The bust is considered the most striking likeness possible of 
Professor Wilson, and is a masterpiece of art, reflecting the 

' John Henning was bora ol Paisley on 2nd May, 1771. He got 1 
good Scalch eilucalLon, rilhec more than ihe "Three id." He re- 
ceived a good iraining from his mother, and was fond of reading. 
Among other books, he pored over " Koiiinson Crusoe," and was so 
amch Oscillated ihat he resolved to go 10 sen without letting his parents 
know ) bai his miJther becoming unwell, he could not niake up his 
mind to [cave her, and he therefore remained at home. His notiun of 
eoing to sea ted him to aIuJ/ geometry, trigonomctty, and navigation. 
Hcnning's Tather Koa a cabinettuaker atid joiner, and having generally 
twenty men under liim, he did a large business. Henning followed his 
Cither's employment, and look supervision of the business till he was 
about thirty years of age. Having seen, in 1790, a collection of models 
and pencil drawings that were exhibited in Paisley, he became strongly 
impressed with the desire of being a modeller. Soon afterwartls, he 
visited the studio of Sir Henry Kaeburn in Edinburgh, and resolved 10 
model the head of a brother-workman in wax ; and for many others in 
Paisley he successfully carried out the same work. In tSoz, he went 
to Edinbui^h, where he studied and mastered Greek, Hebrew, Latin, 
and Italian. He remained there nine year>, and executed many medal- 
lions. In iSll, Henning removed to London, where he obtained Lord 
Elgin's permission to copy the Grecian fiieics, which give us a correct 
representation of the artistic and relicious life of the Greeks. After 
twelve years, he completed the renovation of the Elgin marbles to 
nearly their original condition, and this placed him among the foremost 
of modellers. Mr. Henning died at his residence in London on 8th 
April, 1851, aged So years. 


greatest credit on Mr. Fillans. The Professor himself was 
so well pleased with the bust, that he said to Mr. Fillans, 
" I have sat to many, but I will never sit to another, the 
bust is so excellent.'** 

^ James Fillans was bom at Wilsontown, in Lanarkshire, on 27th 
March, i8o8, and he continued there till he was about eight years of 
age. During that time he had only been a short period at school. 
Fillans's father removed to Busby, and there he was first employed in 
herding cattle. Afterwards, he wrought in the Printfield at Busby, 
where he remained about five years. His father not finding good em- 
ployment for his family, removed to Paisley, where he at first had a 
small shop for the sale of provisions, fruits, &c. Young Fillans was 
apprenticed to the loom, as that was the only trade that could be 
readily obtained. He greatly disliked the monotony of weaving. His 
natural genius began to develop itself at this time, and with common 
clay he commenced to model a variety of living animals. About 1824, 
he went to the theatre to see Harry Johnston and Mackay in the two 
chief characters of ** Rob Roy." The scene betwixt J^oh A'oy and Bathe 
Nicol Jarvie was acted, where the latter proposed to make weavers of 
the two sons of the former, when the indignant chief exclaimed — **My 
sons weavers ! I would sooner see all the looms in Glasgow, beams, 
treadles, and shuttles, burned in hell fire." This so much accorded 
with Fillans's own feelings, that he went home and resolved to cease 
learning to be a weaver. Although his fathex at first objected to this 
proposal of change, he consented that his son should apprentice himself 
as a mason to Mr. Hall M 'Latchie, a respectable master builder in Paisley. 
No doubt the future sculptor intuitively adopted, this course, that he 
might acquire the art of handling the mallet and chisel. He now devoted 
himself to drawing and to reading, such works as ** Rollin's Ancient 
History," and the lives of Michael Angelo, Canova, and other artists. 
There is a fine, generous feature of Fillans's at this time which is well 
worthy of being recorded. His master died before he completed his 
apprenticeship, and as the widow did not carry on the business, he ob- 
tained employment as a journeyman from another person, and paid over 
his wages to Mrs. M 'Latchie, retaining only what he should have had 
as an apprentice. Fillans worked at his trade at Greenock, and was 
also employed in executing some of the ornamental parts of the Glasgow 
Royal Exchange, then being erected, and he was known at that time by 
his brother- workmen as "Young Athens." Fillans, encouraged by 
Motherwell and others, set up his first studio in Paisley, where he met 
with great encouragement, and his fame reaching Glasgow, he opened a 
studio there, and executed many busts of gentlemen belonging to that 
city. In April, 1S33, he married. In 1835, Fillans, with the view 
of improving his information in matters relating to Art, visited London 
and Paris ; and on returning to London, opene<l a studio there. In 
184 1, he visited Florence and the other principal towns in Italy. 
Paisley was proud of his rising fame, for she reganled him as one of her 


In 1851 an honorary pension of ^300 was conferred on 
the Professor by Government ; and in the following spring 
he gave in his resignation to the College patrons, without 
claiming any retiring allowance, after dischai^ing the 
duties with singular ability for thirty-one years. Till within 
a short period of his death he resided during the summer 
months at Elleray. On the hrst of April, 1854, having 
enjoyed only indifferent health for some time previ- 
ously, a stroke of paralysis seized him, and on the third 
of that month he died at his residence in Gloucester Place, 
Edinburgh, when bordering on seventy years of age. His 
remains were interred in the Dean Cemeteiy, and the 
funeral, which was a public one, was attended by thousands, 
who thus testified their respect and esteem for one of the 

sons. On 6fh January, 1S44, Fillins was entertained at a public dinner 
in the Exchange Rooms, Paisley. Nearly 200 of a company sat at 
dinner. CoL Mure of Caldwell, M.P. for (he County, occupied ihe 
ctuir. Fillans was also entertained at a public dinner by his TriencU 
and admirers in Ayr and vicinity, on ist September, 1S4H, in Burtis's 
Cottage. About the middle of the century, he experienced (lisappoint- 
ments in obtaining commissions to execute works of art; and in 1851 he 
discontinaed his expensive studio in London, and took up his atmde in 
Gla^ow— his studio and dwelliiie-house being in the same building. 
FilLuis died in tlie 441b year of his age, at his dwelling-house in GLis- 
eow, on 37th September, 1852, and his remains were interred in Ihe 
Paisley Cemeteiy. The illness which preceded his death arose from a 
kind of rheumatism which alTecled his linibs and ultimately ascended to 
his heait. Mr. Fillans owed his eminence 10 his own genius and won- 
derful perseverance. Among the most prominent of his works were— 
"The Birth of Bums," in a/ta-rt/iiw; a lifc-siied group, " lUind 
Giris reading Ihe Scriptures ;" a life-sized group, in marble, " Mmlonna 
and Ctiild ; life-sized figure, " Grief, or Rachel Weeping for her 
Children ;" the statue of Sir James Shaw at Kihnarnock ; the bust of 
Professor Wilson (" Chriitopher North ") ; bust of Allan Cunningham ; 
bast of Motherwell ; bust of Willinm Kennedy, author o( " Kilful 
Fancies," &c.; posthumous busts of James Hogg, Sir Walter Scoti, 
and Robert Bums; statuette, in bronze, of Ihe race horse "Flying 
Dutchman," the property of the Earl of Eglinlon. In addition to these, 
he executed numerous commissions for genllemen connected with the 
West of Scotland and the Metropolis. Besides his eminence os a 
sculptor, Mr. Fillans attained great proficiency as a |>ainter, and 
received and executed commissions in that department of art. Mr. 


most illustrious Scotchmen of the nineteenth century. In 
February, 1865, a noble statue of Wilson, executed in 
bronze, by John Steel, of Edinburgh, was erected in Princes 
Street Gardens, Edinburgh. 

In 1825 Wilson's entire poetical works were published in 
2 vols., and were followed in 1842 by 3 vols, of prose con- 
tributions to Blackwood's Magazine^ under the title of 
"Recreations of Christopher North." After his death a 
complete edition of his works, under the editorial supervision 
of his son-in-law. Professor Ferrier,^ of St. Andrews, was 
published; and in 1862 there appeared an interesting and 
able memoir of his life by his daughter, the late Mrs. 

Fillans could scarcely have lived so long in Paisley without being .1 
poet, and he frequently devoted a spare hour to the muse. I give the 
following, composed at Kilmun in 1845 : — 


When moorfowl caw and lambkins play. 
And laughing shadows speil the brae, 
I o'er the muirlan' bent my way 

To the bonny banks of Craigic- 
There, cosie 'neath the rowan tree, 
Where wc frae witchery were free, 
I pressed the han' and praised the e'e. 

The ji^lowin' e'e o' Aggie. 

As gently yields the tender flower, 
When bending 'neath the summer shower. 
E'en sae my Aggie's head did cower 

Wi' downcast watrie e'e. 
By a* the atths bv lovers made, 
By a' the vows o heart and head, 
I pledge my truth to thee, fair maid, 

Wilt thou do sae to me ? 

As sunny eleams on cloudy day 
Glaik on the hills and fleet away. 
Sac flushed her cheek as she did say— 

My Jamie, O my Jamie ! 
I for nae other vow did spcir. 
But only wiped the gratcfu' tear 
Ere it did fa' ; then did we swear 

Ne'er to forget the rowan tree. 

1 Professor Ferrier, at the reauest of the Directors of the Paisley 
Artizans* Institution, delivered a lecture in the Old Low Church, on 
the evening of Monday, 9th March, 1857. The learned Professor made 
choice of the Life and Writings of his father-in-law, Professor Wilson, 
as the subject of his lecture. I had the honour of presiding on the 
occasion, and the worthy Professor was my guest during the period of 
his stay in Paisley. 


Gordon.* Wilson's fame and genius, I may safely state, 
rest more substantially upon those unrivalled contiibutions 
which appeared for a long period of years in the pages of 
BiaAwood't Magatine, than even upon his fine melodious 

To whom belongs this valley fair 
That sleqs beneath the fi\saj air. 

Even like a living thing? 
Silent as infant at the breast, 
Save a still sound that speaks of rest. 

That streamlet's murmuring I 
The heavens appear to love this vale; 
Her clouds with scarce-seen motion sail. 

Or 'mid the silence lie ; 
By that blue arch this beauteous earth, 
'Mid evening's hour of dewy mirth. 

Seems bound unto the slcy. 
O! that this lovely vale were mine! 
Then from glad youth to calm decline 

My years would gently glide ; 
Hope would rejoice io endless dreams. 
And memory's ofl-reluming gleams 
By peace be sanctified. 

Then would unto my soul be pvcn, 
From fumacc of thai gracious heaven, 

A purity sublime; 
And thoughts would come of mystic mood 
To make, in this deep solitude. 

Eternity of time. 

* When the centenary of Sir Waller Scott was celebrated in Paisley 
on Tuesday, IJlh August, 1871, Mrs. Gordon was present at the 
banquet held in the CofTee-Room. While Mrs. Gordon, who was an 
intdligent and beautiful lady, remained in Paisley at this time, 1 had 
the honour of having her as my guest. Before leaving, Mrs. Gordon 
entered the following roemotandum, in my copy, of her memoir of her 
father: — "i6th Aupi'.t, 1871. In remembrance of a pleasant day 
inrnt wilTi Mr. and Mrs. Brown, at Underwood I'ork. Marv Gordon. " 


And did I ask to whom belonged 
This vale? I feel that I have wronged 

Nature's most gracious soul. 
She spreads her glories o'er the earth ; 
And all her children, from her birth, 

Are joint -heirs of the whole. 

Yes ! long as nature's humblest child 
Hath kept his temple undefiled 

By sinful sacrifice, 
Earth's fairest scenes are all his own, — 
He is a monarch, and his throne 

Is built amid the skies. 


How wild and dim this life appears ! 

One long, deep, heavy sigh ! 

When o'er our eyes, half closed in tears. 

Are faintly glimmering by ! 

And still forgotten while they go. 

As on the sea-beach wave on wave 

Dissolves at once in snow. 

Upon the blue and silent sky 

The amber-clouds one moment lie. 

And like a dream are gone ! 

Though beautiful the moonbeams play 

On the lake's bosom bright as they, 

And the soul intensely loves their stay, 

Soon as the radiance melts a^^'ay, 

We scarce believe it shone. 

Heaven's airs amid the harp-strings dwell, 

And we wish they ne'er may fade ; 

They cease ! and the soul is a silent cell, 

Where music never played. 

Dream follows dream through the long night hours. 

Each lovelier than the last, 

But ere the breath of morning flowers, 

That gorgeous world flies past. 


And many a sweet angelic cheek, 

Wht&e smiles o( love and kindness speak, 

Glides by us on this earth ; 

While in a day we cannot lell 

Where shone Ihe face we loved so well 

In madness or in mirih. 


A cloud lay cradled near the selling sun, 

A gleam of crimson tinged its braided Bnow; 
hoi\g had I watched the gluiy moving on 

O'er the still radiance of the lake below. 
Tianqai] its spirit seem'd, and lluated slow, 

Even in its very molion there n'as rest ; 
While every breath of air that chanced to blow. 

Wafted the traveller to the beauteous weit. 
Emblem, methoughl, of the departed soul ! 

To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given ; 
And by Ihe breath of mercy made to roll, 

Kight onwards to the golden gates of heaven, 
Where to the eye of faith it peaceful lies, 

And lelb to man his glorious destinies. 


Art ihou a ihing of mortal birlh, 
VVhose happy home is on our earth ? 
Does human blood with life iml>uc 
Those wandering veins of heavenly blue 
That stray along thy forehead fair, 
Lost 'mid a gleam of golden hair? 
Oh! can that light and airy breath 
^leal from a being doomed to dealh; 
Those features to Ihe grave bt seni, 
In steep, thus mulely doquenli 
Or art thou, what (hy form would seem. 
The phantom of a blessed dream ? 



Oh ! that my spirit's eye could see 
Whence burst those gleams of ecstacy ! 
That light of dreaming soul appears 
To play from thoughts above thy years. 
Thou smil'st, as if thy soul were soaring 
To heaven, and heaven's God adoring ! 
And who can tell what visions high 
May bless an infant's sleeping eye ? 
What brighter throne can brightness find 
To reign on, than an infant's mind, 
'Ere sin destroy or error dim 
The glory of the seraphim ? 


It was a dreadful day when late I passed 

O'er thy dim vastness, Skiddaw ! Mist and cloud 

Each subject Fell obscured, and rushing blast 

To thee made darling music wild and loud, 

Thou Mountain-Monarch ! Rain in torrents play'd. 

As when at sea a wave is borne to Heaven, 

A watery spire, then on the crew dismay'd 

Of reeling ship with downward wrath is driven. 

I could have thought that every living form 

Had fled, or perished in that savage storm, 

So desolate the day. To me were given 

Peace, calmness, joy. Then to myself I said. 

Can grief, time, chance, or elements control 

Man's charter'd pride, the liberty of soul ? 



JOHN REID was a son of Thomas Reid, feuar in West 
Street, and was born in 1 785. John was a weaver to trade, 
and lived at No. 8 Well Street. He was a good specimen 
of the well-informed and well-to-do weavers at the end of 
the last and the beginning of the present century. He 
knew Tannahill personally; and worked in Allan Glen's 
back shop in Broomlands with R. A. Smith, and with that 
musical composer's father. Reid was, through reading and 
observation, a well-informed man. In his young days he 
was very fond of field sports, and went frequently down the 
Cart with his gun and boat to the Firth of Clyde and the 
adjoining lochs. He also had a taste for flowers, and 
cultivated them in the garden connected with his humble 
dwelling in Well Street. He died there in 1865, in the 
eightieth year of his age. John Reid was one of the minor 
poets of Paisley ; and the following is one of his productions, 
which was printed as a leaflet, and appeared in 1861 : — 


At nicht, when I gang to my bed, 

I seldom close my e'e, 
For thinking of my only son, 

That's far oot owre the sea. 

My only son, that's far awa' 

Oot owre the restless sea, 
I often wonder, when it's dark, 

If you have mind o' me. 

Ye come not hamc, as ye were wont 

To tak' your meals wi' me ; 
When late at nicht 1 bar the door. 

The tears stand in my e'e. 

When will I see my only son ? 

When clasp him to my heart ? 
I'm sure, if that time ever come, 

W^e will be griev'd to part. 



JOHN MITCHELL was born at Paisley on 4th 
February, 1786. He became a shoemaker to trade. He 
was long connected with the literature of Paisley. In 1823 
The Moral and Literary Observer was published "every 
Saturday morning, by John Mitchell, No. 28 Wellmeadow 
Street, Paisley ; price three half-pence, payable on delivery. 
Printed by S. Young." Mr. Mitchell died on 1 2th August, 
1856, in the seventieth year of his age. 

Mr. Mitchell was a most prolific writer, and produced 
verses with great facility. His first volume of 156 pages, 
entitled "A Night on the Banks of Doon, and other 
Poems," was published in 1838. In 1840 he published 
another volume of 208 pages, entitled " The Wee Steeple's 
Ghaist, and other Poems and Songs." In 1845 ^^ published 
a volume of 112 pages, entitled "One Hundred Original 
Songs." In 1852 he published a volume of 208 pages, 
entitled "My Grey Goose Quill, and other Poems and 
Songs." Besides these, a host of other minor poems were 
published by him at different periods, such as "The 
Eclipse — 2i Dramatic Sketch;" " The Battle of the Speerits;" 
" A Night frae Hame ; " " Cautious Tam, or How to Look 
a Foe in the Face;" "The Cross Steeple and Galloway's 
Lum;" "Nick's Tour, or The Cobbler Triumphant;" "A 
Braid Glower at the Clergy ; " " Lines on the Celebration 
of Thomas Paine's Birth-Day ; " " Address by St. Rollox 
Lum to its brethren ; " " Hayman at Barclay & Perkins' 
Brewery ; " " Tam's Club ; " " Just Asses of Paisley, or 
Theatre versus No Theatre." 

In 1839 Mr. John Mitchell, along with Mr. John Dickie, 


wrote and published a prose work of 424 pages entitled 
" The Philosophy of Witchcraft/' 

Mr. Mitchell in the preface to his first volume, published 
in 1838, stated that like Tannahill his greatest ambition was 
to be considered respectable among the minor poets of his 
country. This aim he certainly has achieved, for he has 
composed many verses with so much power as to place him 
in a good position among the minor poets of Paisley. 


The tree ! the tree of Elderslie 

Is fading fast, tis true, 
And soon will Spring — I grieve to sing — 

Its leaves cease to renew. 
Stem Winter's stonn, o'er its rough form 

For centuries has raved, 
But still the tree, we love to see, 

Time's march has nobly braved. 

And Where's the Scot, whate'er his lot, 

Who honours not his tree. 
Whose matchless brand swept from our land 

The foes of liberty ? 
And while on thee, thou honoured tree. 

The leaves of Spring are seen. 
Fame will entwine his name with thine 

Whom Time will aye keep green. 

Then hail to thee, thou old oak tree ! 

Long, long may Time thee spare 
To wear the name that laurelled Fame 

Our Wallace gave to wear. 
And while your dome, where meteors roam. 

Attracts the wand'rer's eye. 
Will Wallace be, by Fame's decree, 

A name that ne'er will die. 




What wakes the poet*s lyre ? 

*Tis beauty ; 
What kindles his poetic fire ? 
*Tis beauty ; 
What makes him seek at evening's hour 
The lonely glen, the leafy bower, 
When dew hangs on each little flower ? 
Oh ! it is beauty. 

What melts the soldier's soul ? - 

'Tis beauty ; 
What can his love of fame control ? 
*Tis beauty ; 
For oft, amid the battle's rage, 
Some lovely vision will engage 
His thoughts and war's rough ills assuage ; 
Such power has beauty. 

What tames the savage mood ? 

'Tis beauty ; 
What gives a polish to the rude ? 
'Tis beauty ; 
What gives the peasant's lowly state 
A charm which wealth cannot create, 
And on the good alone will wait ? 
'Tis faithful beauty. 

Then let our favourite toast 

Be beauty ; 
Is it not king and peasant's boast ? 
Yes, beauty ! 
Then let us guard with tender care 
The gentle, the inspiring fair. 
And love will a diviner air 
Impart to beauty. 



Oh ! waft roe to (he fairy clime 

Where Fancj loves to roam. 
Where Hope is ever in her prime. 

And Friendship has a home ; 
There will I wander by Ihe streams 

Where Song and Dance combine 
Aioond my rosy waking dreams 

Ecstatic joys to twine. 

On music's swell my thoughts will soar 

Above created things, 
And revel on the boundless shore 

Of rapt imaginings. 
The rolling spheres beyond earth's Iten 

My fancy will explore, 
And seek , far from the haunts of men, 

The poet's mystic lore. 

Love will add gladness to the scene. 

And strew my path with flowers ; 
And joy with innocence will lean 

Amid my rosy bowers. 
Then waft me to the fciry clime 

Where Fancy loves to roam. 
Where Hope is ever in her prime, 

And Friendship has a home. 


When hearts are merry in the ha', 
Owre sparkling mountain dew, 
Wha frae the board wad gang awa' 
An' lea' a stoup that's fu' ? 

The stou]>'s stiti fu', my frien's. 

The sloup's still fu', 
An' we'll ne'er rise while we can j 
"The stoup's still fu'." 

I So 


Tho' lyart leaves drap frae the trees, 
The spring will them renew, 

An' spring's aye present when we seize 
Upon a stoup that's fu'. 

The stoup's still fu', &c 

The gowden sun has slippit doon 

Ayont the sea sae blue. 
He's maybe gaun, the droothy loon. 

To share a stoup that's fu'. 
The stoup's still fu', &c. 

\Vi' merry songs we'll cheer the night. 
The laugh will joke pursue, 

And aiblins, lads, morn's rosy light 
Will see our stoup still fu'. 
The stoup's still fu', &c. 

The barley bree, then, let us share 
Keep aye the glass in view. 

And we'll soon droon the carlin, Care, 
Within our stoup— it's fu'. 
The stoup's still fu', &c. 


Poverty lang has been seen in my dwelling, 

Poverty shares baith my but an* my ben. 
Aft hac I tauld her, but she'll no tak' tellin'. 

Ne'er to be seen in my presence again. 
Tho' frien's withdraw when misfortunes assail us. 

Poverty then her attachment will shaw. 
For 'mid our woes she will lean an' regale us 

Wi' visions o' feasts she hcrsel' never saw. 

O'er hearths that are cauld she's always presiding. 

The ragged an' lean are her fav'rite care ; 
But in the domes where the wealthy abide in 

She's ne'er seen leaning their pleasures to share. 
** Stick to your frien's " is a maxim we ever 

Enforce on those wha o' frien's stan' in need ; 
But, Poverty ! fain I the ties wad sever 

That binds me to ane I look on wi' dread. 



DAVID WEBSTER was a native of Dunblane, and 
was bom on 25th September, 1787. Although the father 
belonged to the humbler class, he intended his son to be 
educated for the Church, but his early death put a stop to 
this resolution. David Webster was apprenticed to a 
weaver in Paisley, and he was engaged in weaving through- 
out his life. He was fond of company, and frequently, with 
the companions he joined in the public-house, indulged to 
excess. I remember seeing him more than once in a 
very bad condition on the street, with scarcely a coat on 
his back. He died on 22nd January, 1837. He composed 
verses from an early period of his life. Many of his pieces 
appeared in the public press. In 1826, he published in 
pamphlet form an ode to the memory of Tannahill, along 
with a few other pieces ; and in the following year he had 
another pamphlet published, the subject being " An Address 
to Fame, or Hints on the Improvement of Weaving." But 
in 1835 he collected and published a volume of poems and 
songs, extending to 220 pages, under the tide, "Original 
Scottish Rhymes, with Humorous and Satirical Songs,'' 
Many of his poetical pieces are good, and possess in a 
marked manner keen satire and humour. 


Tupie—*' Brosc and Butter." 

When I was a miller in Fife, 

Losh ! I thought that the sound o' the happcr 
Said, ** Tak' hame a wee flow to your wife, 

To help to be brose to your supper." 



Then my conscience was narrow and pure, 
But someway by random it racket ; 

For I lifted two neifu* or mair, 
While the happer said, ** Tak* it, man, tak it." 

Hey for the mill and the kill. 
The garland and gear for my cogie ; 

Hey for the whisky and yill. 
That washes the dust from my craigie. 

Although it's been lang in repute 

For rogues to mak* rich by deceiving, 
Yet I see that it does not well suit 

Honest men to b^in to the thieving. 
For my heart it gaed dimt upon dunt, 

Od ! I thought ilka dimt it would crack it, 
Sae I flung frae my neive what was in*t. 

Still the happer said, " Tak* it, man, tak* it.'* 

Hey for the mill, &c 

A man that's been bred to the plough 

Might be deaved wi' its clamorous clapper, 
Yet there's few but would suffer the sound 

After kenning what's said by the happer. 
I whiles thought it scofTd me to scorn, 

Saying, ** Shame, is your conscience no checkit? 
But when I grew dry for a horn. 

It changed aye to ** Tak' it, man, tak' it." 

Hey for the mill, &c. 

The smugglers whiles came wi' their pocks, 

'Cause they kent that I like't a bicker ; 
Sae I bartered whiles wi' the gowks, 

Gae them grain for a sup o' their liquor. 
I had lang been accustom'd to drink. 

And aye when I purposed to quat it. 
That thing, wi' its clappertie-clink, 

Said aye to me, "Tak' it, man, tak' it.'* 
Hey for the mill, &c. 




O, Tannahill ! Apollo's fav'rite bard ; 

Had I a Campbell's art, his fancy bright, 
Then I would give thy merit due reward ; 

Would my dull muse but take a higher flight ! 
But like too many whim-inspired fools, 

I*m doomed to pen the rude illiterate page ; 
Denied by fate the benefit of schools — 

I must bear the scoff of an enlightened age. 
I spurn the thought — vow ne'er to write again, 

Shunn'd by the world, and Poetaster named ! 
But rebel-like ideas convulse my brain, 

And I must write, if twere but to be blamed. 


^»r— "Gic my Love Brosc." 

Chorus — Hey for the kintry o* cakes, 

Hey for the heroes that's in o't, 
Hey for its mountains and lakes. 

It's sweet barley broo and it's bannocks. 

Auld Scotland ! tho' rugged thy land, 

A* torn wi* craigie and water, 
'Twad seem that oor daddies langsyne 

Ne'er thocht upon seeking a better. 
Content wi' iheir bannocks and brose. 

And proud o' their mountains o' heather. 
They rushed like a flood o'er their foes. 

And vanquished their ilka invader. 

Auld Scotland ! tho' hoary thy rills. 

Though dreary thy winters and lowering, 
Though icy boards cover thy hills, 

Nac land is to us sac endearing. 
The Southrons may brag o* their clime. 

Their wealth, and their worldly splendour, 
But nature, in works mair sublime, 

Surrounds us with loftier grandeur. 


i'\i-i.i:v I'or.Ts. 

\\ eve li-l 


U' ;c h. 


,v lucc'-lin'', 

Wc hac plenty o' ^hccp on our haughs 
To serve us for meat and for cleading. 

We hae barley and oats baith in store, 
And aye when we chance to be drouthy, 

We hae baith yill and whisky galore 
To render us canty and couthy. 

Gie a Scotchman a drink and a sang, 

He'll cheerily cock up his bonnet ; 
For his spirits flee up in a bang 

To the tune of an auld Scottish sonnet. 
Nae threats o' his foemen he fears, 

Nae danger on land or on water ; 
For the storms that sound in his ears 

But mak' his great spirit the greater. 


Serenely the morning was dawning, 

The sunny beams rose owre the hill ; 
Our beasts stood a' rowting and yawning 

By the side of a summer-dried rill. 
The larks in the lift they were singing, 

In notes baith harmonious and shrill ; 
And round me the woodlands were ringing 

To the clack of a neighbouring mill. 

Then quo* I, to my auld aunty Peggy, 

** The morning's sae bonny and clear. 
Troth, I'll e'en gang and saddle my naigie. 

And ride in to see Paisley Fair." 
But, quo* she, ** Man, ye' re surely light-headed. 

Or else ye're grown lazy and slack ; 
Kenst thou that at hame thou'U be needed 

To help us to big the peat stack." 


But, quo' I, " The hairsi on us is drawing, 

We'll be (oiling fiae muming till dark ; 
Truth, il's either aye sawing or mawing : 

A young cliicl gels iiaethtng but wark." 
Then I drew frae the boost the bit kibbock, 

Axid look to mysel' a bit whang, 
Wi' some bannocks weel baked by Tibbock, 

Wha's e'en been our servant sac lang. 

Then I gied my beast wat'ring and coming, 

VTi' Iwa beapit handfu' o' tieana^ 
" Ilae," quo' I, " tak' thee that for thy corning. 

Twill help to pat slrenglh in thy banes." 
Then aUT I cam' cheery anil merry, 

1 galloped down the lang lone. 
And soon met wi' mae in a hurry, 

A' makin' best speed to the town. 

There was Tarn that wons tluun in the hallow, 

Wi' haveral Jock Hodge frae Brae side ; 
Wi' their doxies o' intellects shallow, 

Mair scrimpil o' sense than o' pridi-. 
There was Peggy, wi' een aye sae jiawky. 

Thai bides at the held u' the glen ; 
And Nelly, that thriRiesE, gawky, 

Wha's siller entices the men. 

Then quo' Tauiiny, "i]uo'he, ' quo' Tammy - 

How's a' the day, Willie M'Nair ? ' 
' I thank thee,' quo' I to Tammy, 

' And thou'tl be for seeing ihc fair ; ' 
And then quo' Jock Hodge, ' (pio' Johnny,' 

As he turned round his red face, 
' And thou'll be for trying thy i>uny, 

Nae doubt, at the thirty ]>ound race.' " 

Now frae ilka bye.road they were thranging 
llaith blin' full; and lame folk and weans, 

And straight to the fair they were ganging, 
And straidlen' o'er hillocks and stanes ; 

1 86 

\]>iA\ I'Mi r 

l"I,on -I 'inc ii" l!iri;i {]]' 

il '''I ! 


Aiiil itUiei-^ o" iheiu uii lliL'ir Liinic.^, 
IJut the maist thing that troubled the bodies 
I think was their hungry wames. 

We arriv'd, man, and stabled our horses, 

Syne a luncheon we took for support ; 
Then, securing our lang necked purses, 

Took a dauner to see a* the sport. 
And while we stood gaping and staring 

To a poor bodie singing a sang, 
Quo' a hizzie, ** Will, buy me my fairing — 

Losh ! thou kens thou has promised it lang." 

But the course it was a' in a bubble 

O* confusion and perfect uproar ; 
Sae wi' punch, man, we push'd thro* the rabble 

Till we cam* the length o' the Score — 
There were dolts, man, and dinsome deceivers, 

Wha, like statesmen, impose upon man ; 
And some silver-hunting believers 

Wha catch a* the cash that they can. 

Now one by the wa*-side was wailing — 

**Gude Christians, help an auld man ;*' 
While M*Adam was ranting and railing 

The cheapest goods under the sun. 
Here's veils for auld maids' wrinkled faces. 

The cheapest and best here-awa* ; 
With Waterloo ribbons and laces. 

And pen -knives for naething ava. 

There were darners, and clippers, and flowerers, 

Wi' bleachers fu* trig frae the braes, 
Wi* scogies, and cooks, and tambourers, 

Wha's clatter was a' on their claes. 
Braw lasses — losh, man ! their faces 

We scarce got a peep o' ava, 
Sae hidden they were in big cases 

Or capes made o* strae, some said straw. 


But some roar'd (he race was b^inning — 

Hech, sirs, sic a hullibaloo ; 
Ftae taverns and tents they were running. 

Some sober, and ilhers blin' fou. 
Then some roar'd Ihc hindmost was Toremost, 

And roos'd a Kilbirnie bit beast ; 
But I swore the fiist wad be foremost, 

Or thai he wad be second at lea^t. 

Neisl we heard the wild beasts all a-howling. 

And wild fools beginning to squeke, 
There a gowk 'bout the elephant was bawling 

That it could do a' things but speak. 
Sic Nanny wis ostcr'd wi' Tammy, 

And Nelly wi' muckle Jock Hodge, 
Sae we drew out our siller fu' canny, 

And paid to win in wi' a grudge. 

The elephant stood in a closet ; 

And whelher for hunger or greed 
1 kentna, but lyc tbe big nose o't 

Was wagging for bawbees and bread. 
Now, as wc stood staring and glowring, 

The lasses were shaking wi' fear, 
Man, to see the big serpent devouring 

As meikle meal's siir't for a yeir. 

There were fiddlers, and lifers, and drummers, 

Wha ptay'd for biwbees in a neuk, 
With pipers, and droners, and bummers, 

And d(^ that could dance by the beuk. 
But, quo' Tarn, as wc stood wi' the tawpics, 

And Icugh at the mcrryman's tale, 
" Deed, lassies, I'm e'en growing yawpish, 

We maun hac some buns and some ale." 

Syne, resolved on a bit and a drappie. 
To be blythe as our daddies of yore. 

We daunert to niak' ourscis happy 
luto wee Jamie Smith's at the Score. 


There ae core was hauding a loudey 
What neist they wad hae for to drink, 

While some o' the tousy and tawdry 
Were scheming the way to get clink. 

At length we fell a* to the prancing 

And louping like fools on the floor, 
Sae wi* Bddling, and diddling, and dancing. 

The house was in perfect uproar. 
But the sun in the west now was sinking, 

And gloamin' began for to fa' ; 
Grown tired wi* their daffing and drinking, 

Deed I thocht, man, I'd just come awa'. 

Sae now I'm come hame, gude be thanket. 

To tak* tent o' my grandmother's gear ; 
I had but six groats, tho' I drank it. 

Oh ! I'll surely win owr't in a year. 
But the first time I gang to the smiddie, 

As on Saturday teen I'll be there, 
Man, I'll gar them a* laugh round the study 

Wi* the humours o' Paisley Fair. 


The minstrel and his cannie wee wife 

Sat in their humble bower. 
And sair they moum'd the waes o' life, 

That they were aye sae puir. 
The minstrel strove aye to impart 

What comfort he could gie ; 
But the sigh cam' aye frac his wee wife's heart, 

And the round tear frae her c'e. 

But soon there cam' a ray o' light 

As if frae the heaven abone. 
And shone through the minstrel's heart sae bright, 

Till joy was spread aroun'. 
His wee wife saw its glad'ning beam. 

And soon she began to croon ; 
And the minstrel put his harp in trim. 

That had lang been out o' tune. 



ALEXANDER CARLILE, of the firm of James Carlile 
& Sons, Thread Manufacturers, Carlile Place, Paisley, was a 
native of Paisley, and was born in 1788. The late eminent 
Dr. Carlile, of Dublin, was his eldest brother. Mr. Carlile 
received a good education, having been first in the Paisley 
Grammar School and thereafter a student in the University 
of Glasgow. He took an active and earnest part in all 
philanthropic matters in the town, and was for some time a 
member of the Town Council. He died at Paisley, 4th 
August, i860. 

His mind was highly cultured, and he devoted much of 
his spare time to literature ; he contributed to several 
periodicals. I do not know when Mr. Carlile began to woo 
the muse, but in 1855 he collected and published a number 
of his " Poems," and stated in the preface that " several of 
these Poems have been already published. Their composi- 
tion has extended over a considerable portion of the authors 
lifetime — some of them dating a quarter of a century back. 
They are here presented to the public in nearly the reverse 
order in which they were written." Mr. Carlile was the 
author of several popular and spirited songs, and his poetry 
possesses considerable merit. 


Oh ! wha*s at the window, wha, wha ? 
Oh ! wha's at the window, wha, wha? 

Wha but blythe Jamie Glen, 

lie's come sax miles and ten 
To tak' bonny Jeannie awa', awa* — 
To tak' bonny Jeannie awa', awa'. » 



He has plighted his troth, and a*, and a*^ 
Leal love to gie, and a', and a*, 

And sae has she dune, 

By a* that's abune, 
For he lo*es her, she lo'es him, *bune a*, 'bune a*- 
He lo'es her, she lo'es him, 'bune a*. 

Bridal-maidens are braw, braw, 
Bridal-maidens are braw, braw. 

But the bride's modest e'e 

And warm cheek are to me 
'Bune pearlins, and brooches, and a', and a' — 
'Bune pearlins, and brooches, and a*. 

It's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha'. 
It's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha'. 

There's quaffing and laughing. 

There's dancing and daffing. 
And the bride's father 's blythest of a', of a' — 
The bride's father 's blythest of a'. 

It's no that she's Jamie's ava, ava, 
It's no that she's Jamie's ava, ava. 

That my heart is say eerie 

When a' the lave's cheery. 
But it's just that she'll aye be awa', awa*, 
It's just that she'll aye be awa'. 


Oh ! who taught you, with touch so true. 
To wake those witch-notes wild ? 

These are the very tones that fed 
My spirit when a child. 

By them my youthful heart was nursed. 
Inspired, and soothed, and cheered ; 

And many a spot, and many an hour, 
By Aem have been endeared. 


You say to yon 'tis muwc sweet, 

Moie sweel than you can tell ; 
To me it is I moral power — 

A mighty magic spelL 

With each liill svell or plaintive fall, 

There rushes on my sight 
Some scene endeared, some long-lost friend. 

In memory's flashing light. 

And all my youthful soul returns — 

Tis pissing strange, I ween — 
With all its hopes and loves again, 

I am what I have been. 

But, oh I the light thai memory throws 

Is mournful, fading, wan, 
Like the setting beam of an Autumn sun, 

To melancholy man. 

And buried feelings risen again, 
Though they may cherished be. 

Are like the forms the daik-browed seer. 
Is sadly doomed to see. 


My brothers are the stalely trees 

Thai in the forests grow ; 
The simple flowers my sisters are. 

That on (he greenbank blow. 
With Ibcm, Willi ihem, I am a child. 
Whose heart with mirth is dancing wild. 

The daisy with its leir of joy. 

Gay greets me as I stray ; 
How sweet a voice of welcome comes 

From every trembling spray 1 
How light, how bright, the golden. vring'd hours 
I spend among those songs and flowers ! 


I love the spirit of the wind, 

His varied tones I know ; 
His voice of soothing majesty. 

Of love and sobbing woe ; 
Whatever his varied theme may be. 
With his my spirit mingles free. 

I love to tread the grass-green path. 

Far up the winding stream ; 
For there in nature's loneliness 

The day is one bright dream. 
And still the pilgrim-waters tell 
Of wanderings wild by wood and dell. 

Or up the mountain's-brow I toil. 

Beneath a A^dd'ning sky, 
Seas, forests, lakes, and rivers wide. 

Crowding the wondering eye. 
Then, then, my soul, on eagle's wings, 
To cloudless regions upwards springs. 

The stars — the stars ! I know each one. 

With all ils soul of love. 
They beckon me to come and live 

In their tearless homes above ; 
And then I spurn earth's songs and flowers. 
And pant to breathe in heaven's own bowers. 


Oh yes, there's a valley as calm and as sweet 

As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ; 

So bland in its beauty, so rich in its green, 

'Mid Scotia's dark mountains — the Vale of Killean. 

The flocks on its soft lap so peacefully roam. 

The stream seeks the deep lake as the child seeks its home, 

That has wander'd all day, to its lullaby close, 

Singing blithe 'mid the wild-flowers, and fain would repose. 


W'xv ~.»K-:nn !h.- ! i...vl l.ii;^ ;li.;: - ■;■! ;im -i-pm,! 
I lii- -nnctiiary of nature, 'iiiiil ;i w ildcnic-^ found ; 
\Vhose echoes low whisper, "IJid the world farewell, 
And with lowly contentment here peacefully dwell." 

Then build me a cot by the lake's verdant shore, 
With the world's wild turmoil 1*11 mingle no more, 
And the tidings evoking the sigh and the tear, 
Of man's crimes and his follies no more shall I hear. 

Young mom, as on tiptoe he ushers the day, 

Will teach fading Hope to rekindle her ray ; 

And pale Eve, with her rapture tear, soft will impart 

To the soul her own meekness — a rich glow to the heart. 

The heavings of passion all rocked to sweet rest. 
As repose its still waters, so repose shall this breast ; 
And 'mid brightness and calmness my spirit shall rise 
Like the mist from the mountain, to blend with the skies. 


The wine cup may gladden the desolate heart, 
And dreams of wild rapture a moment impart ; 
It is but the revel around the death pyre, 
Where hopes that may linger, as victims, expire. 

The wine cup is poison ; but beauty may fill 
A fount that, though sweeter, is deadlier still ; 
When virtue her bosom no longer may claim. 
She is but the priestess of ruin and shame. 

When the care - rankled bosom is lost to repose — 
Hopes blasted, joys faded, woes thick'ning on woes ; 
Thy dark thoughts the deep -staking game may dispel. 
That a demon more fierce in thy bosom may dwell. 

The winter may scowl o'er the desolate plain, 
But the green bowers of summer will flourish again ; 
Let man, then, in hope and in virtue endure. 
For earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure. 




WILLIAM CRAIG was born in Paisley on nth June, 
1789. He was educated for the medical profession, and 
was passed at the Royal College of Surgeons, London. He 
belonged to an old Paisley family. His father, Robert 
Craig, was a grain merchant in Paisley, who, having bought 
the old Meal Market in High Street, erected on its site, in 
1799, the present building of three storeys in height.^ Dr. 
Craig commenced business in Kilbarchan, and afterwards 
removed to Neilston, where he erected a dwelling-house for 
himself and family. In 1825 he came to Paisley, and lived 
in the house his father built, being No. 26 High Street. He 
conducted himself professionally and socially in such a cor- 
rect manner as to endear himself to everyone with whom he 
became connected. He died on 13th January, 1829, at the 
age of forty years. 

He composed many poetical pieces, which are remarkable 
for their vigour and felicitous expression. The following 
song I take from the " Scottish Minstrel,'' by R. A. Smith, 
vol. vi., p. 82. The music is by Mrs. Campbell. This little 
gem of a song was first brought before the public at the 
Paisley Bums Club at their annual meeting to commemorate 
the birth of Bums, on 29th January, 1816, when R. A. 
Smith was president and Hugh Turnbull croupier. The 
minute of this meeting states that ** the following tribute to 
the memory of departed genius, written by Doctor Craig, 
one of the early members of the club, was also sung to 
original music by the President. This elegant little com- 
position (* The Wreath ') was greeted with the applause it so 
justly merited." I find from the minute-book of the Bums 

^ Now No. 26 High Street. 


Club, that at the annual meeting, held on 29th January, 
1 809, Mr. William Craig was the President, and " delivered 
a most animated address." He would then be only twenty 
years of age. In R. A. Smith's " Scottish Minstrel," Mrs. 
Campbell is set down as the author of the music, while 
R. A. Smith himself is stated in the minutes to have been 
the composer. 


I stood on the spot where his lyre is unstrung, 

Where cold is the bosom it fir'd ! 
I wept o*er the bones of the sovereign of song, 

The minstrel whom nature inspir'd ! 

I pluck'd a green wreath from the bard's hallowed tomb, 

But it was not the wreath of his fame ; 
No, the wreath of his fame shall unfadingly bloom 

In the glory that circles his name ! 

Yes, Bums, while the children of Scotia shall heave 

A sigh o'er the grave of the bard ! 
To thee, native minstrel, affection shall weave 

A wreath of eternal regard ! 

A foot-note in the "Minstrel" says of this song: — 
" Written by Dr. William Craig, of Paisley, at the suggestion 
of a lady who had visited the grave of Burns, and gathered 
some wild flowers from the turf which covered his mortal 


Notice was taken of Dr. Craig's death in the Paisley 
Advertiser of 31st January, 1829, and the following verses 
composed by him, on the occasion of the death of a young 
friend, were at the same time given. They were then 
published for the first time. 

Has the bright sun of life so untimely gone down ? 
Docs the gay flower of youth, drooping, die, ere 'tis blown? 
Are the sweets of his fricndshij) transferred all al)ovc ? 
Shall we ne'er see those features that kindled in love ? 


Yes ! ye friends to his virtues lament not his doom — 
Ye admirers of genius, weep not round his tomb ; 
For this earth, as the soul's native soil was not given, 
No, the rose withers here that will blossom in heaven. 

Hark ! the sad song of death solemn sounds in our ears, 
*Tis the song that the Muses are weaving in tears. 
For his soul to the Mansions of Fancy oft sprung, 
And his heart oft was cheered by the voice of the song. 

But the bright lamp of life, once in splendour that shone, 
Is extinguished in death, and its radiance is gone ; 
Yet immortality bright, 'twill rekindle above. 
And eternity beam in the regions of love. 



It was the Sabbath, and the sun*s fair beams 

Poured all the splendour on the sacred mom, 
And all was still, save when the distant streams, 

Like murmuring music, to the ear was borne. 
Drumclog's brown steeps were 'merging from the mists 

Her scented heath, in all its purple pride ; 
No hostile foot had yet its sweetness prest, — 

No native blood its hues more deep had dyed. 

But, ah ! not long this holy calm was given ! 

It was the Sabbath, and the oppressor's rod 
Was not shivered ; while, to madness driven. 

An armed peasantry besought their God. 
And, lo ! already on each mountain brow 

Some wanderers hasten to the dewy heath ; 
While, from each lone and lovely vale below. 

Many are marching Zion's strains to breathe. 

The Psalmist's sacred song now sweetly rose 

In heavenly strains, that martyrs used to sing ; 
Now plaintive, wild, it seemed to breathe their woes, 

Now bold it rose upon ** triumphant wing." 
Prayer followed praise, and suffering patriots heard 

Their pastor breathe their griefs before the throne 
Heard him invoke Jehovah's two-edged sword 

To scatter all the enemies of His Son. 



THOMAS GUMMING, who, I understand, was a native 
of Paisley, is the author of several poems. In 1818 he 
published, in pamphlet form, " Strictures on the Election of 
John Maxwell, Esq. of PoUok, 4th July, 1818, as Repre- 
sentative in Parliament for the Shire of Renfrew ; a poem 
printed by Stephen Young, Paisley." ^ He also published 
in the same year, " A Peep into the Gabinet : a Poem." 
He likewise published, without any date, " Sympathy 
Displayed and Patriotism Delineated: a Poem." Printed by 
J. Neilson for the author. It consists of twenty -four pages. 
The following extract is from the poem named the 
"Strictures." Although common-place, it is the best I 
could select. 

They will instruct the Kingdom all 

Where freedom does abide ; 
The' Renfrewshire be very small, 

Here honest men reside. 

Here Arts and Commerce, tmly great, 

Have still their dwelling-place ; 
Here love and friendship walk in state, 

To brighten ev'ry face. 

Here Weavers fine in Paisley shine 

A thousand charming ways ; 
Can any one our work define, 

Or merit half the praise? 

Here ev'ry Art, which can impart 

Bliss to the human race, 
Inspires the head, and warms the heart 

Of men in ev'ry place. 

^ The name of this firm, in the Paisley Directory of 181 2, was 
Andrew and Stephen Young, printers. High Street ; and six years 
afterwards there only appeared, in that book, Stephen Young, printer, 
210 High Street. He died in January, 1830. A good many books 
and pamphlets came from his press during the time he was in business. 

1 98 


ALEXANDER TAIT was not a native of Paisley. 
John Parkhill, ^ in his " Ten Years' Experience of a 
BetheraFs Life" (p. 139), states that Tait was a native of 
Mauchline, but this is a mistake, as Tait himself says in his 

^ John Parkhill's forefathers were natives of Stewarton, where they 
lived for many generations. His grandfatlier came to Paisley with 
his family, and died in 1846, leaving a family of four daughters and a 
son, who was afterwards John Parkhill's father. John's father was first 
engaged as a herd and farm servant. He likewise managed a lime work 
at Bankfoot, where John was bom about the year 1 790. He received 
his first education from his mother, whose occupation was mainly 
spinning on the lint wheel. His first book was the Shorter Catechism, 
then followed the Proverbs, the Psalms, which were got by heart, Allan 
Ramsay's Poems, and among others the Poems of Rol)ert Bums, which 
were creating great excitement in the country. Cotton spinning had by 
this time become very brisk, and he was sent to be a "piecer" in a 
cotton work, which was his first employment. After working in this 
way for two years he was a draw -boy, and then leamed hand -loom 
weaving, and became acquainted with Tannahill the poet. 

After the short-lived peace of Amiens was broken up, the war with 
France recommenced with much fierceness. Volunteer regiments were 
raised ; and he, joining one of them, was under drill for a considerable 
time at Paisley, Greenock, and Saltcoats. After leaving the Volunteers 
he married, and returned to the loom. Instead of good trade fol- 
lowing the peace of 181 5, as was ardently expected, it became greatly 
worse, and this was accompanied by much dissatisfaction among the 
working classes, who held public meetings to petition the legislature for 
an increase in the representation of the people in Parliament, believing 
if such were obtained trade would improve. In this movement John 
Parkhill took considerable interest. In the Radical movement of 1 81 9 
and 1820 he was one of the leaders ; and when it was resolved by this 
body to rise in arms against the (jovernment, he was apiK)inted to the 
])osl of Commissary -General. He thus got himself so much involved in 
the intrigues of the revolutionary party, that he deemed it prudent to 
flee for safety to America. When the disturbances in this country 
vanished, and an amnesty was declared, he returned to Paisley ; and as 
trade had by that lime improved, he readilyobtained work. Manydeprcs- 
sions of trade followed ; but in the great stagnation of business and trade 
in 1841 -2, hcforalong time could not obtain employment; but after work- 
ing with other unemployed weavers at outside labour, he succeeded in 
getting an appointment in the (unemployed) Secretary's office. Although 


volume of poems and songs, under the heading of " The 
Author's Nativity," p. 268. 

Lie Ihen so prelly, 

Where first I drew brealh. 
There my molher, Betly, 

She clad me wi' claith. 

A shin, coal, and vest, 

Breeks, stockings, and shoon, 
My hair neatly dresst. 

And a wee hat aboon. 

Then from Dewar's swair, 

I Iript on my shanks 
By pretty Tmquair, 

Up to Glerdin's banks. 

There I stood and did wonder, 

To see skies so high. 
And hear the clonds thunder. 

And phincls roll by. 

Tait was a tailor by trade, atid lived for a long time in 
Paisley. John Parkhill ajjpears to have known him well 
when in this town, for he slates in the book already 
mentioned, that " Alexander Tait, or, as he was commonly 
called, Sawney Tail, alihough not a native of Paisley, yet 
sojourned here for many j'ears. He was a tailor to trade, 
and worked with ihe late Mr. Daniel Mitchell. He 

still continuing to be a keen politician, lie refused to take part in the 
Charlbl movement, by proposing at public meetings the "amendment 
for the Charter," when a resolution «'as suhinilted tu petition I'arliametit 
for the abolition of the Corn Laws. In 1S4J he received the appoint- 
ment of officer for the High Church, which he held for ten years. As 
his literary acquirements were considerable, he acted as correspondent 
to a Glascow newspaper, llis: other works were, in 1841, "The Life 
of reterBuniet;" in 1857, "The History of I'aisley;" in 1859, "Ten 
Years' Experience of a IMheral'a Life;" ami in i860, "The Life and 
Opinions of Arthur Sntdduii ; an Aulobiugraphj." John I'arkhiU died 
in (October, 1S63. 


published a volume of poems, which may be termed the 
transcendental in nonsensical poetry; in short, they are 
particularly well worthy the attention of the curious if they 
could be got at, but they are very scarce. He had an 
extraordinary ill-will at Burns, and his force is applied 
antagonistic to the celebrated bard.'* 

Daniel Mitchell, with whom Tait worked, lived, according 
to the Paisley Directories, at No. 19 Castle Street. 

Tait lived at one time in Tarbolton, and this must have 
been before the publication of his volume of poems and 
songs in 1790, as in a poem on that village the first verse 
begins — ** Tarbolton village, where I dwell." 

Tait's volume of poems and songs consists of 304 pages, 
and is very scarce. I possess a copy of it ; and a bookseller 
in Kilmarnock having heard of this, came all the way to 
Paisley to see the book, and to get the loan of it. He 
informed me that he had searched everywhere for a copy 
without success, and declared my copy was the only one 
extant. Mr. Motherwell must also have found how very 
rare this work is, for in his " Minstrelsy, Ancient and 
Modem" (p. 63), he says that the "volume of poems and 
songs by Alex. Tait, 1790, I suspect is now scarce and 
certainly very curious." 

Tait has, in his volume of poems and songs, several 
pieces relating to Paisley. One of them, of which I give 
three verses, is entitled — 


In Paisley there's the finest cheer, 
Upon the first of the New -year, 
\Vi' dram bottles and glasses clear, 

Daniel ran ; 
The whole town's in a merry steer, 
' Woman and man. 


Or ever that Ihe cock did craw, 
Or that day-tight came here ava, 
Ten brandy bottles in a raw. 

Dealt by wive^' sons; 
Ve'U see them rinnan ane and a' 

Wi' cheese and buns. 

There's every ane, tho' he be graml, 
Comes wi' his bottle in hts hand ; 
At the bed-side ye'Il see iheni stand 

And gi'c iheni'l clear, 
And wish his blessing it may Innd 

On ihem thai year. 

Another piece, or rather song, of Tail's, is "Paisley 
Maids," and is followed by a song, of which I give the first 
three verses, called — 


Come, sit you down, my pretty lass, 

It's you that's bonny, blyth, and bra'. 
Here is red wine into this glo-s, 

We'll link it up alween us iwa. 

Then to the Sneddon we will trip, 

Where Cart's sweet wimplin' sireains they glide. 

When sailors come here \ri' their ships 
To us wi' barler from sweet Clyde. 

Raw silks and cottons they bring here 

For the manufoct'ries sae fine ; 
Then weaver Inils make clailh appear. 

And pretty lasses make Ihem shine. 

As already stated, Tait had a great antipathy to Bums, 
the poet ; so very unlike the bard's other contemporaries. 


Tait has in his book three poems against Burns. One oi 
these I give. It is called — 

Now I maun trace hi<; pnligree, 
Because he made a sang on me, 
And let the world look and see, 

JusI wi' my tongue. 
How Rab ami Clootie did agree 

When he was young. 

Now, Rab he's thriving lilic a plant, 
Auld S)*mie ca's him his young siint, 
And's learn'd him vastly weel to chant 

And mak' fine rhyme ; 
Tells him, wi' jilis, he'll let him rant 

Now he's come to the age o' ten, 

And has begun to chase a hen, 

Oui, through the kitchen but-and-ben,— 
He toddles at her; 

The thing grows weary'l, ai yc'll ken, — 
Gi'es her a blatter. 

Now he is fifteen year^ and mair. 

There's not his match in nnywhete ; 

Na, not in Clydesdale nor Ayrshire- 
lie beats our Lainis ; 

Ilia grandfather's gi'en him plenty Icar 
To play his cards. 

Another poem, of which I give the two first verses, was 
entitled — 

To Lochly you came like a clerk. 

poucht [he reni, ye was sae ^lark, 
Made payments sroa'. 


Man I I'm no speakin' out o' spite. 
Else Fatie wad upo' me llyle ; 
M'Lure ye scarcely kft a mite 

To fill his horn. 
Yon and the lawyers gi'ed him a skyte. 

Sold a' his com. 


To Paisley town they ha'e three bells 
That sound out o'er a' Campsie fells. 
The hours to a' the country tells, 

Down Cart, up Clyde, 
Twenty long miles ye' II hear their knells, 

Thro' holms so wide. 

From Xeilston to Benlomont loch. 
From Miliken to Bothwell irougli. 
From Hamihon to old Dumroch, 

By the kirk stiles, 
From Houston, tho' Ilic roai) be rough, 

Then count [he miles. 

By him that's good, that did make me. 
By conscience, lads, look if I lie. 
Be just, and count your pedigree 
If blacks or rogues, 
Be silent, coofs, and let me be. 


ir your brags. 

Be wha' ye will, a boar or so* 
Be't stirk, or slot, calf, bull, i 
Be that between your nose art 


To Paiale; lads I'll t«tl my drolls. 
To planets thai fly round the poles, 
To dull sumphs, who ate Taiy noils, 
Vet wretched cheats, 
To clever sailors, wi' your yol«, 

The Main Street, surely, is the best, 
The H'hole Council this has confess'd. 
There's none walks out but them that's diaste 

In fair day-light, 
The vagabonds dare not opprest 

In mirk mid-night. 

The guard ihey stand there most complete. 
They watch the town thro' every street. 
The linker, tawny, and the cheat 

Tity their case, 
The foul thief, that infernal sp'rit. 

There hides his face. 

The Paisley folk, ihey may be bold. 
Their Main Street sides are worthy gold, 
Their price can by no man be (old 

That's new come forth. 
Their maslcts" pockets camia hold 

What Ihey are worth. 

In Incle Street they knittings twine. 
In Cotton Street work miislins fine. 
Into Silk Street the silk-gauze shine 

In mirk mid-night. 
In Back-raw Street they drink at wine 

In fair day-light. 

In Fisher- row Street's Tarn and Johnny, 
In Main Street, O! the maids they're bonny 1 
In oiter, oiler, joins each crony, 

And ihoir gear sort, 
In high crown'd hats, high cockeniony, 

O man, fine sport. 



In Smithhills, sure, they're at nae loss, 
In comes Ihe maids of Abbey Close, 
In Water Wynd they mind the gloss, 

And candle doups, 
In Cansefside they like Che dross 

O' Ihe pint stoups. 

In Stone Street, they're a' sae kind 
Unto the trade Ihey were design'd. 
In al your spare they'll tell their mind 

Righl plain, wi' ease, 
In at youi mouth comes oat behind 

Fniits o' their cheese. 

In New Street lightly they mil on. 
In Cow Street, too, and Lady's Loan; 
In comes the cadger they ca' John 

To Wane-gale end. 
In Grammar-school Close dmws his dron 

For Uysler's Wynd. 

In Oltl Sneddon llie sailors :.kip. 
In New Sneddon (lie lailies trip. 
In Croft ihey pair and tightly clip 

These jolly souls. 
In Brick Lane sii at others' hip 

Wi' flowing bowls. 

In Sandholes there's the finest trade 
In Sawney Palon'a shop or bed ; 
In comes the lads a' to be dad, 

For Daniel sews — 
In stitching coats he's blylb and glad, 

And makes them trousc. 

In King Street pretty soldiers stands, 
In Queen Streel wi' their grailh in hands. 
In come Ihe lainK that has ihc lands, 

In ships lo figlit, iiur King commands. 
Or be dragoons. 



In John Street stands our King's nurs'ry, 
In Loan -well Street his banners fly. 
In Pluncan Street so loud they cry 

God save our King, 
In dirty street sends to the sky, 

Makes the globe ring. 

In Saw -hill they cry, come and list, 
In Gordon's Loan's the charter chest, 
In Prussia Street for war they thirst, 

They're temper'd steel. 
In Shuttle Street, that moment doest, 

They do fight well. 

In Maxwelton their street is dry, 
In't ye'll see Fulton's chariot fly, 
In Wester Street comes sweetly by 

Like glcnts o' fire. 
In harnessing his horse they ply 

To his dc >ire. 


REV. W. M. WADE came, in 1817, from England to be 
the first Episcopalian minister in Paisley. The place of 
worship for his small flock was the " Garnal," situated on 
the south side of Lowndes Lane, leading from New Sneddon 
Street to the River Cart. The congregation continued to 
worship there till they entered their present beautiful chapel 
in St. James Street, in October, 1831. On the death of 
Dean Routledge, Glasgow, 00 aist August, 1843, Mr. Wade 
was appointed his successor. Dean Wade did not, how- 
ever, long enjoy his high position, for he died on 4th 
December, 1845. Mr. Wade was the author of several 
wcrks, but, so far as 1 know, only one piece of poetry, ex- 
tending to eight pages, of which I give an extract : — 


But towards the allnr now 

Reverently we bcml, and vow 

In turn, that while the lire-btoott throbs 

In our hearts, now tieating high, 

We, like ihe manlle ihal enrobes 

George the Fourth right royally. 

Wilt, should danger, to surround him 

Ever ihrealen, iJirow around him 

The ir^ of our loyalty. 

Thu.* «c vow ; and ere the day 

Of triumph closes, thus we pray : ' 

" Grant, dread souri;e of human power. 

Thai to our King each future hour 

Rich in private bliis may prove, 

And in a happy ^Lople's unab.ited luve '." 



And as earthly glory now 

In full radiance him around 

Is thrown, amid the cheering sound 

Of acclamations that arise 

From forth this gay and gallant show. 

Loud and joyous to the skies : 

So when at length, of days and honours full, 

He must no longer bless a people's eyes — 

No longer o'er them equitably rule — 

May he, from earth translated to the skies, 

Enter to the bright abode 

Of his Saviour and his God. 


ALKXAXDI-.R (illAIOUR was another of I'aislcys 
minor poets. His name and some of his poetical pieces 
appeared in the " Poetical Magazine,' Paisley, 1815. Miss 
Nimmo (see p. 215), in one of her verses at page 31 in that 
magazine, asking Alexander Gilmour to compose an elegy 
to the memory of her brother, feelingly says to him — 

But thou wha wcel the heart could 'st fill 
Wi* warm respect for Tannahill," &c. 

An elegy to the memory of Tannahill was written by 
Gilmour, and also an elegy on the death of Robert Nimmo, 
which both follow here. I cannot, however, discover any- 
thing further regarding the life of this poet. 

By Alexander Gilmour, Paisley. 

Tune -" Erin-go- Bragh." 
With me, ye kind zephyrs, come sigh for the poet, 

Responsively weep, as you waft o'er the hill ; 
Let his praise be your theme, until Scotia know it. 

Their bard he is gone, the famed Tannahill I 
Cheerful and kind, he was lender and moving ; 

To virtue inclinetl, he was always improving. 
Till fortune intrusive, unkind and unloving, 

Had destin'd the fate of the famed Tannahill. 

Mute be the groves where he used to wander, 

Let silence pervade every songster around, 
The glen of Gleniffer, whose streamlets meander. 

As she tells her sad tale, applause let resound. 
Beside the lone willow, by Stancly's high tower. 

In rapture sat musing beneath the green bower. 
With a soft melting heart spent the studious hour, 

Till fortune*s decree laid him low in the ground. 


Let the muses attend in tears at his parting, 

Inspiring the poets to sing in his praise, 
Since fortune, stem fortune, unkind and uncertain. 

Her favours bestows on the worthless and base. 
Let his fate draw the tear from each fond-hearted lover, 

Since cold is the urn where the green turfs him cover, 
And the brave Caledonians always discover 

The worth of their poet, and sing to his praise. 



By Ai.exandkr Gilmour, Paisley. 

Alone sat the bard, on the banks of a river, 

Imprest by the times of misfortune, he moum*d, 

I^amenting his fate, that fortune for ever 

His sighs and his tears so disdainfully spurn'd. 

Quite restless his mind, and uneasy all over. 
Unseen lay the evil that caus'd him complain, 

Some forebotling fears, yet he could not discover 
The awful distress that augmented his pain. 

As musing he lay, on the bank by the willow. 
He soon was relieved of his trembling and fear ; 

The wind, wafting far o'er the dark rolling billow, 
Soon told the sad tale in his list'ning ear. 

His knell, spoke the winds as they echo'd along, 
The muse in their dark hoary weeds are array 'd. 

Your bard, Robert Nimmo, no more will his song 
E'er gladden the swains on the banks of the Clyde. 

No more join the dance on the sweet dewy green, 
That youth, bom to care, now lies buried unknown 

Like a sweet-scented rose tlow'r to wither unseen, 
Yet neglect not his virtues to praise in the song. 


J. WATT was one of Paisley's minor poets. I have not 
been able to learn any particulars of his life, but I give a 
poetic piece by him, relating to the death of Tannahill, 
which appears at page 14 in "The Poetical Magazine," 
Paisley, published in 1815. 

( Octasisard by Iht Dmih of Robat TannakUl.} 
No more can the cheerful with merriment sing. 
No more will the songiiteni enliven (he spring. 
The sweet lale of joy our dull hours cannot kill, 
Since low in the dusi lies the dear Tannahill. 

Alarming the voice — lamentation the tale, 
The loving and friendly do now ncep and wail ; 
From the sable-clad fathcr-i the tears do distil. 
All sighing in sorrow for dear Tannahill. 

Hia body now lies in the clods of the earth. 
Who oflen has rais'd up the echo of mirth, — 
The braes of sweet l.oudon may now weep Ihcir fdl. 
No more they'll be cheer'd by the dear Tannahill. 

Now, friends, pray remember the theme of his song. 
And tho' he be gone, let his mem'ry live long, 
-Vnd poets, when wand'riiig by valley or hill, 
Kcmember a line for the dear Tannahill. 

Ills virtue, his honesty, friendship, and love. 
Are subjects sufficient wherever you move, — 
Step down to yon glen, by the murmuring rill. 
And swell lamentation for dear Tannahill. 



JOHN STEVENSON was, I understand, a native of 
Paisley. At any rate, he was a " weaver in Queen Street, 
Paisley," according to the heading of the poetical piece I 
shall give, which appeared in the "New Paisley Repository" 
of 1853, page 35. This racy and jocular piece was com- 
municated to the Editor of the " Repository " by Mr. 
Miller, Beith, formerly Editor of the "Annual Miscellany" 
of 181 2, &c., and must have been written about 18 13. 




IVriitc'n forty years ago. 

Tam, on my loom the tilher night, 
My e'en maist blear'd wi' can'le light, 
My pouch was toom, clean tir'd o' wark. 
An' no fit to mak' up my dark. 
In cankry mood I fell a-thinkin' 
Upo' the ill effects o' drinkin'. 
An' what I thought, for want o' better. 
Comes next, 'twill help to mak' a letter. 
Of a' the folk lays claim to sense. 
The drunkard has the least pretence ; 
He's scarcely e'er clear o' a hubble 
Until he breeds himsel' mair trouble. 
Through thoughts like ihae and mony mae 
My wan'rin' min' did skelping gae. 
Nor ken I whar' they'd hae an en' 
If I then hadna got a sen'. 
Some ne'bourb on the chaffin' got, 
Seems wanted me to wect my throat ; 
1 thought I'd maybe rue't the morn, 
But, rue't or no, I'd tak* a horn. 


Awa' I gud, an', Tam, in iiuth, 
I got a ga; drap to my mouth ; 
Wi' mirth gaed quickly roun' the glass 
An' cheerily the night did pass. 
When whisky's in, the longue's no slack, 
An' (here wa& tell'l me mony a crock 
Which ana'ett unco weel the time, 
But shn'na here be put In rhyme- 
Save ane was lell't wi' canty glee, 
Aa' as I've lime I'll tell'l to thee. 
A parish minister did ettle 
His flock in morals gude 10 settle. 
And them did manage unco tt*ecl 
A' but ae des'prate drunken cheil, 
Wha, lell him ne'er «ie what wad happen, 
Ventur'd o'er af en on the thaffiii'. 
Ae day the mini:>ter him met, 
An' inlo serious talk did get — 
Tcll't him if he gaed on this gate 
That he wad nie't when 'twas loo late. 
An* wish't that he wad tak' a thought — 
]>rink mony had to niin brought. 
Auld Pcler heard him to an en', 
An' lell'l him thai he now wad men'. 
An' hop't upon nae future day 
He ought like this would need to ^ay. 
The minister gaed hame contented. 
Because that Peter now rcpentcil. 
Peter next day gaed to a fair. 
And mel wi' some acquaintance there, 
Wha at meal-lime propos'l a dinner ; 
Peter gaed in, poor drunken sinner. 
As sune's Ihe dinner was got down, 
A glass o' whisky quick gaed roun', 
An' after ane Has got anilher, 
Till hearty they grew a' ihigethcr. 
Bul, oh I il cam' o'er Peter's heart, 
An' he was put inlo n carl, 
Supple's a clout o' lith an' lim'. 
An' hame thai way they hurl'd Iiim. 



The story sune gaed to the town, 
The minister got word o*t sune, 
An' thought it needless noo to tell 
Peter's ain fau'ts to Peter's sel', 
But on the next examin' day 
He'd tell him't in a sharper way. 
That day sune cam' ; Peter attended 
(For by this time his booze was ended), 
And 'mang the rest was Peter's callan, 
A gae big chiel, his questions tellin'. 
When met, the minister by name 
Ca'd Peter's boy an' said to him — 
** Young Peter, tell me do you know 
To what place do the drunkards go?" 
The boy look'd first unto his father, 
An' a' his courage up did gather, 
Then ans'ert — ** Sir, ihey winna fail 
To gang whar they'll get the best ale. " 


ISAP.KLLA NIM.MO is believed to have been a native 
of Paisley ; and some of her poetical pieces a[)peared at 
pages 30 and 41 in the " Poetical Magazine," Paisley, 181 5. 
But unfortunately I am unable to supply any information 
relating to her life. The first I shall give of her pieces is 
the following : — 



Requesting him to compose an Elegy to the Memory of her Brother. 

Thou dear bard, whose heart is kind and leal, 
Who can the woes o' ithers feel, 
Down let ae tear o' pity steal 

For Robin dead. 
Far distant, in a foreign fiel', 

Low rests his head. 

Nae flowVet decks his humble grave, 
Nae lang grass o*er his bosom wave, 
There, scorched by the burning rays 

O* the high sun, 
The birds alone do chant his praise 

Wi* waefu' tune. 

But thou wha weel the heart could'st fill 
Wi' warm respect for Tannahill, 
May likewise try thy muse's skill 

To sing the praise 
Of ane whose fate has aye been ill 

Since early days. 



Alas ! 1117 dear friend, by dealh 1 have loi^t 

A brother deservedly dear, 
No more will the hand of thai lov'd brother wipe 

From his sister's (lale cheeli the sail tear. 
If sickness or sorrow e'er satldened my heart. 

That heart which liy nature was gay, 
My brother would quickly some pleasure impart 

Thai dispellVl all my sorrow away. 

Tho' early the paths of misfortune he troJ. 

l!y ailversity <iestin'd to roam, 
He was tnie to his friend, he was true to his word, 

And uas dear to his sister and home. 
No more will he stray by the sweet -winding Clyde, 

Nor pull the wild rose from the brier ; 
He died in a land where no friend did reside, 

Where no mother to pii<lc him was near. 

Yet oft by sweet fancy, the pride of the mu*c. 

I am led to my denr brother's gr.ive. 
And there my sad tears his lone luji bedews, 

Which is scorch'd by the sun's liuming rays. 
What aerial form I behold full of love. 

With drapery white as the snow? 
Ah ! Is it Hope from the regions almvc. 

Come to cheer the sad victim of woe ! 


JOHN MILLAR was born in the Townhead of Paisley. 
He became a bookseller, and had his shop at the head of 
Casde Street, Paisley. In r8o8 he issued a catalogue, as he 
states, of "Works of Merit in every Department of Literature." 
At the head of this catalogue he states : — 

This list o' beults — some dull, some clever, 

I'm sui¥ ye ne'er will see again — 
Come, purchase now '. for wha eoulii ever 
Sic beiiki sae cheap befate obtnin '. 

Mr. Millar in this catalogue also states that he had edited 
the folloiring publications: — "Annual Miscellany, or Rational 
Recreations," " The Paisley Repository," " Hardyknute," 
" The Life and Death of the Famous Piper of Kilbarchan," 
" Accurate Account of the Dreadful Calamity at the Canal 
Basin, loth November, 1810," " The Songster," and " The 
Witches of Renfrewshire ;" and that he was author of " A 
Collection of Arithmetical and Mathematical Questions," 
" Problems of the National Debt," " Exercises in Spelling 
and Numbers," " The Tyro's Orthographical and Numerical 
Exercises," Szc. 

" The Paisley Repository " to which he refers was a 
periodical which he commenced to publish, but without any 
printed date, in 1805. It was stopped in 181 1, after the 
completion of twenty-four numbers. The "History of the 
Witches of Renfrewshire," who were burned on the GaJlow- 
green of Paisley, consisting of two hundred pages, was 
published in 1 809. 

In 1814, he left Paisley, and became teacher of Giffcn 
School, Parish of Beith. In 1849 he published "The Lower 
Part of a New System of Practical Arithmetic, comprehending 
numerous rules and exercises for expeditious and concise 
calculations of the prices of merchandise, &c." This work, 


which must have cost Mr. Millar a vast deal of labour, extends 
to three hundred and ninety-six pages, and contains a mass 
of valuable information. Mr. Millar died on the Z5th Nov., 
1854. By great persistence he acquired some knowledge 
of the Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and German languages. He 
was also a land measurer, and he someiimes preached to the 
Anabaptists. In the midst of his numerous avocations, he 
found also leisure to cultivate the muse, and I give his elegy 
on Mr. John Peden, who, according to the "Paisley 
Directory" of 1812, was an "accomptant in Lady Lane." 

Mr. Millar supplied some intcresiing and important 
information regarding Ihe authors of the delightful song of 
" Logan Water," which he says was brought under his notice 
by A. C. Dairy. This song originally consisted of two stanzas, 
which were composed by John Mayne, "who was a native of 
Dumfries but spent the early part of his life in Glasgow, 
where he served an apprenticeship as a compositor, under 
the celebrated printers, Foulis. He afterwards removed to 
London, and was long connected there with the S/itr daily 
newspaper. He died on the 14th March, 1836. ' Ix^n 
Water ' was first printed in the Star newspaper on Z3rd May, 
1789," (Book cf Sct'tfish So'ig, by Alexander AVhitelaw, page 
24.) In Mr. Millar's work, a " New System of Arithmetic," 
he states, page 396, in a letter addressed to Mr. Caldwell, the 
printer of that publication, " .\s much discussion has lately 
taken place concerning the four additional stanzas to Mr. 
Mayne's much admired song of ' Logan ^V'ater,' I intend to 
set this matter at rest. Mr. U'hitelaw, a Glasgow editor of a 
splendid collection of songs, price 9s., when speaking of 
' Logan Water,' says the four additional stanzas first appeared 
in the Pocket Kncyclo[iasdia of Songs in 1816. It would 
appear, the literary characters in Glasgow think that the 
' Paisley Bodies ' have no literature among them at all, when 
these Glasgow gentlemen claim for themselves anonymous 



poetr)' to which they have no riglit. These four additional 
stanzas to 'Logan \\'ater' first appeared in No. \T. of 'The 
Paisley Repository' in 1806. In the same number are 
' Lines on Lord Nelson's Victory and Death/ written on the 
9th November, 1805, by the late Dr. Thomas Richmond." 
It will be observed that Mr. Millar does not positively 
state who was the author of the four additional stanzas. 
Mr. Millar either wrote these verses himself, and is too 
modest to admit that he did so ; or by bringing in the name 
of Dr. Richmond, he meant the reader to infer that the 
Doctor wrote them. I am rather inclined to think that Mr. 
Millar himself was the author of these four additional stanzas 
which are so beautiful and appropriate. The following is 
a complete copy of this much admired song, the first two 
stanzas being, as already explained, by Mr. Mayne, and the 
last four stanzas as they appeared in No. VI. of " The 
Pabley Repository," published in 1806 : — 

By Logan's streams that rin sae deep, 
Fu* aft wi' glee I've herded sheep, 
Herded sheep and gathered slaes, 
Wi* my dear lad on Logan braes ; 
But wae's my heart, they days are ganc, 
And fu* o' grief 1 herd alane. 
While my dear lad maun face his faes, 
Far, far frae me and Logan braes ! 

Nae mair at Logan Kirk will he 
Atween the preachings meet wi' me. 
Meet wi' me, or whan its mirk, 
Convoy me hame frae Logan Kirk. 
I weel may sing, thae days are gane — 
Frae Kirk and Fair I come alane, 
While my dear lad maun face his faes. 
Far, far frae me or Logan braes ^f 

At e'en whan Hope amaist is gane, 
I dauner out or sit alane ; 
Sit alane beneath the tree, 
Where aft he kept his tryst wi' me. 


! could 1 see thae days again. 
My looer skaiihle«i an' my ain 1 
Belov'd by frien's, rever'd by faes. 
We'd live in bliss on Login braes. 
While for her love she thus did sigh, 
She saw a sodger passing by, 
Passing by wi' scarlet claes. 
While sair she gial on Logan braes ; 
Says he " What gars [hee greet sae sair, 
Whit fills Ihy heart sae fu' o' care. 

They sporting lambs hae blyihesome days. 

An' playful skip on L<^an braes." 

" What can I do bul weep an' mourn ? 

1 fear my lad will ne'er return, 
Ne'er return to ease my waes. 

Will ne'er come hame to Logan braes." 
Wiih (hat he clasp'd her in his aims. 
And said, " I'm free frae war's alarms, 
I now hae conquered a' my faes, 
We'll happy live on Logan braes." 
Then straight to Li^n Kirk they went. 
And join'd their hands wi' one consent, 
Wi' one consent to spei^d their days. 
An' live in bliss on Lc^n braes. 
An' now she sings " thae days are gane. 
When 1 wi' grief did herd otane. 
While my dear lad did feclit hb faes. 
Far, far frae me an' Logan braes." 

( iVriUen in imitation of Ike epUaph of llahtii Simfiam.} 
Has Buonaparte seii'd the crown? 
Or has some new Com Act come down. 
That iHa ane in Paisley town 

Wear* sable weed ? 
The greatest man the country roun', 
Alas ! is dead. 


Let Paisley fo'k now mak' theit mane. 
For Johnnie Peden's dead an' gane, 
1 saw him buiy't, an' a stane 

Put o'er his head ; 
O' chiels his match he's left us nane, 
Sin' he h dead ! 

Ye schoolmasters greet a' thegither, 
Below this statie here lies a brither ; 
Amang yaai corps there's no anither 

To put in's stead. 
To solve youT counts he ne'er wid swither. 

But now he's dead 1 

His scholars a', where'er ye be. 

Come now an' mourn alang wi' roe, 
An' let the saul tears frac your e'e, 

Rin down wi' speed ; 
Ye'll ne'er again his equal see. 

Since Johnnie's dead ! 

There's ac thing worthy youi Notation, 
Cotuiderin' Johnnie's situation, 
His count in' books, the Numeration 

Did far exceed 
Ilk Ar'thmetician's in the nation. 

But now he's dead \ 

John made Addition to your leat, 
Frae you he'd ne'er Subtract a hair 
O' weel eam'd fame, but ony share 

What fate decreed. 
He Multiplied bailh here and there, 

But now he's dead ! 

I heard— but 1 was vext lo hear 
O' the Division o' John's gear, 
His curious beuks fam'd far an' near, 

Whilh he did read. 
Were now Reduc'd withouten fear, 

.Sune's he was dead ! 


Tho' Johnnie had na mony pence, 
He had Proportion gude o' sen>e 
Sioi^d in his pow, and he frae thence 

Wad lecture read, 
He nicely taught for sma' expense, 

Bui now he's dead ! 

Hia Practice ance was 
He taught successfu', e 
He'd blaw his nose, an' nag his pate. 

And cry, "Tak'heed" — 
He Tul'd like Minister o' State, 

But now he's dead. 
Tho' Johnnie was a wcel leam'd chiel. 
He haled Pedants as the deil. 
His scholars a.' this ken fu' weel. 

He had nae greed, 
He for their Interest aye did (eel, 

But now he's dead I 
He weel could sides an' angles draw, 
Could measure steeples, hills an' a'. 
An' Logarithms and Algebra 

Fast aff could screed, 
Kae problems cam' amiss ava' 

Bui now he's dead ! 
He kent the gail o' magic squares. 
To fonn their primitives in pairs, 
How to cul wood in shape o' stairs 

W han there was need, 
But now confusion rules allairs 

Sin' Johnnie's dead ! 

Here's glorious news ! then cease yoi 

Ve Philomaths arise an' sing, 
Teil Johnnie Poden still is leevin', 

Till hills and doles ivi' echo ring ; 
An' sliU as hi to leach as ever. 

You'll fin' at head o' Lady Lane, 
Don't lose your time, or you may net 

Ha'e ofportuniiy again. 


Of ANDREW AIRD, one of the minor poets of Paisley, 
I cannot discover many particulars. I am given lo under- 
stand, through information I received from an old residenter 
in Paisley, that he was a joiner to trade, and that his work- 
shop was situated a little lo the west of the Weigh House in 
High Street. My informant also stated that he executed the 
joiner work of the East Relief Church, when it was erected 
in 1808; and that some considerable time afterwards he 
went to Edinburgh to commence the business of measurer. 
His name is in the "Paisley Directory" of 181 z, under the 
designation of "Andrew Aird, wright, High Street," but 
does not appear in the " Directory " of i Sio. 

Mr. Aird was the author of a small vuiiime of poetry, 
printed in 1815 by S. and A. Young, Paisley. The poem 
which occupies the whole of the volume is entitled, " Hope- 
Temple, or Unpagan'd-Pantheon, a Humorous Poetical 
Tale." It consists of forty-two pages. 

Before, however, giving any quotations from this poem, it 
may be as well to state some particulars regarding Hope- 
Temple itself. 

Mr. John Love, an extensive and much-esteemed 
merchant in Paisk-y, who lived at No. 42 New Street, 
purchased, in 1808, six acres of land, extending from Long 
Lone to Caledonia Street. He buih thereon, fronting the 
Long Lone, a square building of one stort-y, having in 
connection with it a steeple, in which was I'ut a clock and 
bell, and on the top a weather-cock, all formerly belonging 
to the wee steeple of the Almshouse in High Street. The 

building was named Hope-Temple, and on the steeple there 
were two poetical inscriptions. That on the east was — 

Hope springs elemal 

Id the human breast ; 
Man never a, but 

Always to be blest. 

The inscription on the west side of the steeple, referring 
to the clock, being— 

With constant motion, as the moments glide. 
Behold '. in running life, the rolling tide ; 
For none can sfem by art, or stop by power, 
The flowing ocean or the Heeling hour. 
But wave by wave pursued airives on shore. 
And each impelled behind impeU befoie ; 
So lime on lime revolving we descry ; 
So momenls follow and so moments fly. 

The name of the street, at this time, was changed in 
honour of Mr. Love, from Long Lone to Love Street. The 

grounds in connection with Hope-Temple buildings were 
tastefully laid out as a public garden, and a part of it was 
enclosed and set apart as an aviary and for the confinement 
of wild animals. Mr. Love was a native of the parish of 
Kilmalcolm, and came to Paisley, with his parents, in early 
life. He died on ist December, 1827, in the eighty-first 
year of his age, at his dwelling-house. 

I give, after much searching, some quotations, the best 
portions I could find, in this very poor poem. The author, 
in the tille-page, calls the poem a "Humorous Poetical 
Tale," but I fail to find it so. 

Hope-Temple, and the grounds connected therewith, 
were bought by Mr. Thomas Coats, of Ferguslie, who, after 
laying them ofl' at great expense, generously presented them 
to the community of Paisley, on z^th May, 1868, under the 
name of the Fountain Gardens. 


Here aits and sciences combine 

In amplified connexion. 
And garden finely b; design 

Sbows Flora in perfection. 
As chequered figures ciowd the sky, 

'Fore Lamp of Morn parading, 
Allemale slreaks of crimson dye 

The tinge of orange shading. 
Or frigid Norlb, whose nitrous breath 

Hie fiorid glass adorning 
Unpeered robes, like nature's cloth, 

All imitation scorning. 
The arlisl, undisturbed by war. 

Is ardent at bis calling ; 
And treasures, wafted from afar, 

Bring comfort to his dwelling. 
Still fortune, of her favours shy. 

To catch het each one striving ; 
When men of judgmenl seem to die, 

The fool is oft 'times thriving. 
Still sovereign works an unseen hand, 

Subtracting and enhancing. 
For ends too deep to understand. 

The tilings of sense dispensing. 
Here genius, brighl'ning up the scene 

By artful decoration. 
As yielding nature's clouded mien 

A happy restoration. 
The villa, smiling o'er the trees. 

The sunbeam harmonbing. 
With steeple pointing to the breeic, 

In bold adjustments rising. 
Hope-Temple, swelling in the eyes 

No Pagan fabrication, 
Demanding from all passers by 

Implicil veneration. 


In the "Paisley Repository" of i8ij, No. VIII., a 
number of original songs are given as being " written by the 
late John Wilson, Paisley." They are — " Birthday Ode on 
having completed his Eighteenth Year, the 27th Dec."; 
" Bonny Jean " ; " Think not, proud Maid " ; " Can my 
dearest Henry leave me " ; " Lament " ; " Gle me the 
Lassie o' yon Glen " ; " Rise, my Love ! my Celia, rise ! " ; 
" Ye Flowery Banks o' Bonnie Doon." " This is the 
original form of the very popular song of ' Ye Banks and 
Braes o' Bonnie Doon'" (from Cromek's " Reliques of 
Bums "). 

In No. XVII. of the " Paisley Repository " of 181 j, the 
following is stated : — " Original pieces by the late Mr. John 
Wilson, author of ' The Birthday Ode ' and the song of 
' Rise, my Love ! my Celia, rise ! ' which were published in 
the ' Paisley Repository '" — " Fragment on Creation " ; 
"Paraphrase on Luke xii. 32"; "On Mortality"; "A 
Transient Thought " ; " A Serious Thought " ; " On the 
Greatness of Jehovah " ; " Ode to Happiness " ; " First 
Stanza of a Divine Song" ; " A Fragment." 


How sffifl tlic fleeting years roll on ! 

How unpcreciv'd they fly ! 
How unlmprov'd— few alnioal, almost none, 

In living learn lo die 1 

Each passing day the date can Icll 

When some frail Mortal <iie^ 
Each passing hour with solemn knell 

" fttcmcnlo mori " cries. 


How ihort, yet intricate, the path 

Wbich leads man from the vtomli 
Unto (he cold domains of death — 

The dark and dreajy tomb '. 
Few aie his days, yel full of woe — 

Each day new troubles rise ; 
To teach him rest is not below, 

But bt above the skies. 


Rise, my love ! my Celia, rise ! 

And let us taste the sweets of mom. 
Orient blushes tinge the skies. 

Crystal dews bedeck the thorn. 
Hal, emerging from the main, 

Shakes effulgence from his wiugs — 
Gladness Hows o'er hill and plain, 

Xature smiles and Nature sings. 
Down yon green embroider'd vale. 

Bright with dew, with violets gay. 
Lei us meet the morning gale. 

Let us share the morning ray. 
Beaut; blooms in evety llow'r. 

Verdure smiles in evety grove. 
Music rings in every bow'r — 

All is beauty, all is love ! 


H'rilUit by Ikt lalt John Wilson, Paiilty, on having ci 
Eighlanfh Year. 
No crimson blush, no golden rays adorn. 

No cheerful lark salutes with vocal mirth, 

But clouds and tempests usher in the morn 

That bears the memorandum of my birth. 

I * 


Ve drowsy slumbers, from my couch b^nne ; 

Ye fair illusive vapours, disappear — 
The morning hell, with deep and solemn lone, 

Wafts admonitions to my torpid ear. 
" Awake, O slumbering youth ! " it seems to say, 

"Bdiold the dim recurrence of the mom 
That beais, imprest upon its languid ray. 

Mementos of the hour when thou wast bom. 
The mighty herald. Time, proclaims aloud 

Another year's addilion to (hy age, 
Nor stands he still upon a wintry cloud — 

Away he rides amid the tempest's rage." 
The winds that rustle thro' my native bower 

Address qie, too, with monitory howl. 
But, ah : the sable force of finite power 

Leaves but a slight impression on my soul. 
Unnotic'd how my years glide fast away, 

Swift as the vessel skims the roaring main. 
Swift as the eagle darting on his prey. 

Swift as the reindeer sweeps the snowy plain ! 
Full eighteen years have made their speedy lapse 

Since Nature freed me from the silent womb ; 
Before another pass away, perhaps 

The tufted grass may wave upon my tomb. 
Almighty Father : Majesty divine ! 

By whose sustaining power I live and move, 
Impress roe with the high import of Time, 

Teach me the current moment to improve. 
Klemal Source of Light, of Life, and Love ! 

Diffuse on me Thy influence divine ; 
My darkneas, deadness, and distress remove. 

And make me only and for ever Thine ! 
Be Thou my God, my Guardian, and my Guide, 

My all in heaven, and my all on earth. 
So shall my days in peaceful current glide — 

So shall my death be belter than my birth. 

The author, having borrowed a book &om a friend, kept 
it too loog ; when he returned it, he sent the following lines 
along with it : — 

" Ten thoiuand gratefut thanks to jon. 
My worthy friend, John P"nd*r ; 
I've been a careless bonower, 
But 70a a gen'rous lender." 

John Millar, the Editor of " The Paisley Repository," 
states that " this work contains a few curious arithmetical 
questions, also original poetry, and songs by Alexander 
Wilson, John Wilson, Robert Tannahill, James King, 
Samuel Cochran, Dr. Thomas Richmond, Dr. Wm. Cmi^, 
all of Paisley." —John Millar's New System of PracttMl 
Arithmetic, p. 396. 


WILLIAM TAYLOR was a native of Paisley ; but I 
have been unable to discover either when he was bom or 
when he died. In 1809 he published, in prose, a pamphlet 
extending to sixty pages, beitig "An Answer to Mr. 
Carlile's Sketches of Paisley." It was dated Paisley, i6th 
December, of that year. In 1818 he published another 
pamphlet, in prose, of fifty-six pages, entitled "Agriculture 
the only Basis of Commercial Prosperity ; an enquiry if 
Great Britain has any cause to apprehend a decay of the 
muslin manufacture in consequence of foreigti competition." 
This pamphlet is dated Crosslie, nth August, in that year, 
and was printed by Mr. Neilson, Paisley. In 1817 he 
published a book, entitled " Poems chiefly in the Scottish 
dialect. Second edition, with large additions." This book, 
of 1 1 2 pages, was dedicated to Joseph Hume, Esq., M.P., 
and was printed by J. Taylor, Paisley. The preface is 
dated Duntocher, Kilpatrick, 4th July, 1817. 

I give two specimens of his poetry. 


Hail, sweetest songster o' the grove, 
Whasc tones are soft ani 
or a' the corps ihou'sl the bell, 
Thy liarmon)' nane can excel. 
The mavis e'en may save his win'. 
Nor strain his throat in makiii' din, 
Tho' his shrill throat may soun' wi' gl( 
He ne'er will tak' the paum frac ihcc. 
The lav'rock, by the rooming ]>eep, 
May wake his brilhcri frae their sleep, 
Kor his shrill jiipe i^ lie.ird alou.l, 
Yel thy soft notes anil tones sac fine, 
Far lea' hi- melody l)ehin'. 


When on the flowery banks I lye, 

While murmuring Giylfe gangs gliding by, 

Owre aft' iny heart is rack'd wi' care, 

Ofpoortith's load I ba'e my share. 

For b my pouch nae cash dis clinic. 

And frien'!>hi[>'s drap I seldom drink ! 

O ! when I see Ihee on a tree, 

What pleasures it does gi'e lo me, 

To hear Ihy noic sae safi and fine. 

Which charms the heart and soolhes the mil 


Thou venerable pile, whose walls proclaim 
Departed greatness and a fair domain ; 
Thy name is sacred in thy country's page. 
Not for human carriage, nor for hostile rage- 
No bloody feats achiev'd beneath thy walls, 
Nor martial airs resound within thy halls ; 
The hero's dire commands thou ne'er proclaim'fi. 
For here a human butcher never reign'd. 

While here I sit and view thy sad decay. 

The sable night succeeds the cheerful day ; 

The vocal songsters arc retir'd to sleep. 

And the pale moon through dappl'd clouds does ]>eep. 

Now silence all around proclaims her reign. 

And GryfTe's falls murm'ring whisper back Amen ; 

In solemn thought let retros]>ection (ly. 

And view these sad remains in rnin lie. 

Within these walls, where Ihe owl doth shriek aloud, 

There dwell the truly pious and the good ; 

Even where the bat doth wing her midnight round. 

There often heavenly pr.iises did resound. 

O ! how the sire has wrapt in his fond arms 

A .second self, tho' cloth'd in infant charm.s,— 

With fond desire the rc>l clung to his knees, 

In innocence they kindly strove to please ; 


Here has the loving spouse, in fond embrace, 
Welcom'd her lord, as he relumed from chese, 
With table cover'd o'er with wholesome cheer, 
Here foreign tuiuries never did appear- 
How often has the maid, in midnight hours, 
Long'd for her lover, here witbin these towers ; 
Tho' in hopes, yet fear did cloud her mind. 
Lest Colin should, in future, prove unkind. 
At scenes like these dear mem'ry heaves a sigh. 
But now in sad oblivion tbey do lie ; 
Alas ! they are gone, to return no more, — 
Fled, on the wings of time, with days of yore. 
But Knox, who hath been fam'd in every age, 
Revered as a scholar, well known as a sage ; 
The power of Papal Rome he did pull down. 
And snatcb'd a jeted from Saint Peter's crown. 
Wounded superstition, hellish elf. 
Gave man the bible to judge for himself; 
For ages here his ancestors did reside, — 
Here, for three hundred years, they did abide.' 
But now, alas I they're number'd with the dead, 
For on these walls life's vapour we may read ; 
Man struts a little, soon the bustle's o'er, 
The curtain drops, and he is seen no more. 

Aurora now, on golden wings doth Hy, 
With gaudy taints adorns the eastern sky ; 
The lark rejoices at the cheerful sight, 
With song delightful hails (he new-bom light. 
Adieu, ye mossy walls, I must be gone, 
For fond regrets can only heave a moan. 

: was only a collateral branch of the Reformer's family who re 
—Note by the Author. 



GAVIN DALZIEL, who was a Paisley man, published 
in 1827 a small volume of poetical pieces, and dedicated the 
same to William Motherwell. In the dedication the author 
says he knows where to find " a friend to genius and the 
friendless poor." I have not been able to find out almost 
any circumstance regarding the author. The editor of 
"The Tickler," of isth December, 1827, page 112, states 
that, " with r^ard to the work before us, we need say little ; 
the merits of the author have been fully appreciated by our 
fellow-townsmen for the last twenty years." 

I give the following extract from the work, descriptive of 
I've seen a week and somelimes mair, 
That 'lalo skins were a' our fare ; 
Or whiles kail cuslocks peel'd Ca' bare, 

Ai morn we ate Ihem ; 
An' what may still surprise ye mair. 

Were g I ail lo gel Ihem. 
When trade was dull and dearth inctea«ini;, 
's aye distressing, 
OS lick our vera "dressing" 

Whiles to our dinner ; 
ower, when il took pressing, 
We made it thinner. 
Frae mom to e'en upon our doups, 
Wi' legs swnlt up like water-stoups, 

O' makin'l better ; 
Yet supper'd afl on twa three soups 
O' cauld spring water. 

To gel it 

Bui tho' we aft eauld wale 

r drank, 

In autumn, too, I've seen 

us shank, 

Whiles five or sax o' us in 

a rank, 

Wi' nought to 


To Cmickslon wood, or :< 

) Linglian 

In search 0' m 



Through bnshes, glens, and banlu aod braes, 
Where we could gel bkck-boyda or sUe», 
Till aft »-e lore our half-wom claes 

To perfcci rags ; 
And broughl the blood frae hands and taes 

Wi' ihonis and jaggs. 

Although in prisoii here we be. 
No low mean fellows do you see ; 
If (here are, they must sit at our back. 
And nevet can join in the crack. 

We're honcsl, and so will be yet, 
From prison we wish foe to tlil. 
Haste, my friend, come give me thy paw, 
We'll gel out in due course of l.nv ; 
No base planii had we to get wealth. 
So, my friends, it's " Here's to our health." 
We're honest, and so will be yei, 
From prison we wish for to flit. 
We long for the house that's our own. 
If kept here I am sure we'll have none ; 
Our being in ia not the way. 
If loT^ here 'tis little we'll paj. 

We're honest, nnd so will be yet, 
From prison we wish for to flit. 
When from prison we have got clear, 
We will make it soon to appear 
That all ihe just clelHs Uiat we owe 
We will pay to both friend and foe. 
We're honest, and so will be yet. 
From prison we wish for to flit. 
Our finance is got to an eitd, 
I am sure our lives we should mend ; 
We never our country did wrong, 
And will not be hissed in (he throng. 
We're honest, and so will be yet. 
From prison we «ish for to flit. 


THOMAS KIRKLAND, I am informed, was the father 
of Robert Kirkland, so well and favourably known in the 
town as a member for many years of the town council, who 
filled also the important offices of magistrate and town 
treasurer. He died in November, 1863. Thomas Kirkland 
was, I am told, a master mason, and built the tenement No. 
148 George Street, called the puddock's land. He latterly 
had a butcher's shop on the South Side of High Street, 
opposite Orr Square. 

In 1813 he published, as stated in the title page, 
"Nineteen Original Songs," and from these I select two, as 
follows :— 

y.M— '•DaimlyDiivrt." 
Of late arrived from afnr, 
A Hero well irur'd to war. 
Now high advanc'd on Honour's Car, 
The brave Commander Downie. 

So lel us all his praises sing, 

And then h'n health we'll toss again. 
While o'er his brow the laurels hiiig, 
Tlie brave Commander Doivnie. 
For to defend insulted lan-s. 
To free friim tyrant fangs and claws, 
Ite did espouse the Spanish cause. 

The brave Commander Downie. 
So let us a', Jtc. 
The French at firsl did make a stan', 
Our hero charg'd chem sword in han', 
'Ihey soon did ftel he was Ihe man. 

The brave Comnianiler Downie. 
So let us a', S:c. 


Old Albion, then well may boast, 
Thy liberty will ne*er be lost, 
While such a leader's in thy host 

As the brave Commander Downie. 
So let us a', &c. 

I hope the time time we soon shall see, 
When Bony' will be forc'd to gree, 
And yield to men, bom to be free 

Like our Commander Downie. 

So let us a', &c. 

And when the war's come to an end, 
His days in worthy deeds he'll spend. 
To liberty a faithful friend, 

The brave Commander DoA^Tiie. 

So let us a*, &c. 

May our best wishes him attend, 
Lang may that gallant hero's name 
Stand on the list of martial fame. 

The great Commander Downie. 

So let us a*, &c.* 

' General Downie belonged to the family of Downie of Blairgorts, in 
the parish of Kippen. The following is a notice of- his death — ** Died 
at the Royal Palace, Seville, on 5th June, 1826, his Excellency, Sir John 
Downie, Major General in the army of his Catholic Majesty, Commandant- 
General of the Province of Andulasia, Governor of the Palace of Seville, 
and Knight Grand Cross of the Military Order of Saint Ferdinand. His 
remains were interred the followinjj day, with all honours corresponding 
to his civil and military rank." The Downies of Blairgorts were related 
by marriage to the first Alex. Gibson, town clerk of Paisley ; also to 
Mr. Robert Wright, merchant, and Bailie Andrew Brown, manufacturer. 
Paisley. The widow of General Downie, who was a lady in her manner, 
and free and affable, was well known by the name of Lady Downie. 
After her husband's death, her Ladyship resided for a long time in 
Paisley, and her death, in February, 1842, took place at No. 9 Orr 
Square, Paisley. Col. Charles Downie, in the service of the Queen of 
Spain, last surviving son of the late Benjamin Downie, Esq. of Blair- 
gorts, Stirlingshire, died at Madrid, on 4th June, 1843. 




" Lewis Gordon/' 

O gie's a song to cheer us now. 
About Ihe HighlaDdnun sae trucj 
He is the Ud that 1 admire, 

s«nd me hame my heart's desire. 

Ohon, m)' HighlandmaD, 
My ain kind-hearted Hiehlandman; 
But he's awa', and I think lang 
To see again my Highlandman. 

For he unlo Ihe wars is gane, 
And left me here for to complain ; 

1 wLJi the wars were at an en'. 
That I again might see him hame. 

Ohon, &c. 

When I look to yon craigie knowe, 
Where birks, and briers, and berrii^s grov 
There afien we did laugh an' tease, 
Now I inaim moan amang the trees, 
Ohon, ic. 

When 1 look to yon bracken glen, 
WTiere he brought aye his flocks at e'en, 
My veiy heart does then grow sair, 
I 'm fear'd I never see him mair. 
Ohon, &c. 



The author of this humorous and scholarly little poem is 
unknown. It first appeared in the form of a pamphlet of 
twenty-four pages, with the date 1765, but without the 
printer's name, and also without the name of the town in 
which it was published. The poem is entitled "A Panegyric 
on the Town of Paisley, by a North Country Gentleman." 

Picioribus atque poet is. Quidiibet Audendi semper fuit 
aequa potestas, Atque ita mentitur^ sic veris falsa remised^ 
Primo tie medium medio, tie discrepet ittium, 

Ilerat-de Arte Poetica. 

** Printed in the year MDCCLXV." 

The preface to this brochure runs — 

"the design." 

" The author having lodged with a friend in Paisley, and 
leaving all the family in bed next morning, had a message from 
the lady soon after, telling him in jest, that his stealing oft' 
in the night looked very suspicious, though she found nothing 
amissing but a walking staff ; to this the following verses are 
an answer." 

** This satirical fiction contains a compliment ; as Mercury 
is the God of Trade, their [Paisley people] obtaining his rod, 
signifies the dexterity of their manufacturers ; and his wings, 
the extensiveness of their commerce, both being then very 

Notwithstanding the asseveration by the author that this 
poem emanated from a north country gentleman, under the 
circumstances stated, I am inclined, from the thorough local 
knowledge shown regarding our town, its manufacturers, cSrc, 
that the composer belonged to Paisley. Whether or not 
this opinion is correct, the i)oem is every way worthy of 


being inserted among Paisley productions, and thereby 
preserved from unmerited oblivion. 

To any captious objector I would say, " Pasletani nihil 
alienum puto" — I reckon nothing foreign to my theme that 
relates to poetry and Paisley. 

Dear Madam, I'm vent. 
And greally perplejii, 
To hear you have ta'en it amiss, 
That I chanced 10 flil 
Itefoie you thought til ; 
Therefore must you trouble witli this ; 
T' apolc^[iie for my crime. 
And beg paidon in lime, 
AtMl bc-t your dear Ladyship right ; 
For few Norlnnden' slay 
The coming of day, 
If they can gcl off in the nighL 
Nor ought you to gnidge, 
Wherever we lodge, 
If we generously go as we came ; 
And play no worse trick 
Than slip off with a stick, 
And so, pray, be thankful, M.idam, 
And count it great gain 
That your bed-clothes remain, 
Whatever's become of the Spark ; 
For 'tis truly a blessing 
So Utile is missing, 
When Norlands escape in the dark. 
In Paisley, 'lis true, 
(To give you your due} 
A Norland wilt meel with his match. 
Nor is it worth while 
To strive to beguile. 
When 1' other side's sharp at the catch. 

' North country men. 



For sometime ago, 

Pray don't ask how I know, 
The Gods were carousing together 

On Merc'ry's birth -day, 

Which is sometime in May ; 
For May wa-s the name of his mother. 

Their (jodships grew merry 

With drinking of sherry ; 
And as they sat round the great table, 

Like mortals just bluster'd, 

Still as they grew fluster'd 
Each boasting of what he was able. 

Jove bragg'd of his chain. 

Bade them all take an end 
And he'd venture to hold them a pull.^ 

Reply'd Juno smart, 

* * To be sure, my dear heart, 
We all know you're as strong as a bull."^ 

Jove, though he was flush'd, 
Knew her meaning, and blush'd ; 

But Merc'ry, fearing a storm, 
With his voluble tongue 
Told him, when he was young. 

What fine tricks he was wont to perform. 

Said Jove, with a smile, 

** Friend, you see yon old pile ;^ 
A dozen of claret I'll bet 

If you'll but trip down 

To yon little town, 
In spite of your tricks, you'll be bit." 

^ Foot note by the author. — We are told in Homer, that Jupiter, when 
he had assembled the Gods on an emergency in the Trojan war, spoke 
of the chain which was fixed to his throne, and the world hanging on it 
as nothing ; and bade all the Gods exert their combined strength ; and 
they shouhl pull in vain ; but if he should touch it, Gods and men, nay, 
heaven and earth and sea, would give way at once. 

^ Juno alludes to the rape of Europe, whom Jupiter is said to have 
carried off in the shape of a bull. 

'The Abbey. 



Done, and done, says the God, 

And snatches his rod, 
And wing'd his way down from the sky; 

Bat chang'd shape and air. 

Lest the weavers should slate, 
And appcar'd like i merchant to buy. 

With bags on his horse, 

He trots by the Cross, 
And enquit'd for the hostler at Shed's ; ' 


n look a: 

That a merchant was tbeie 
Who wanted a sight of their goods. 

Straight the weavers left loom. 

And all post to the room. 
Each swearing he'd furnish him best, 

At a very low price ; 

Hut with Ibis kind advice, 
" They're rogues, Sir ! beware of the rest.' 

The God tried his skill, 

To cheat or to steal, 
But found all the dealers too smart ; 

That their eyes were more quick. 

Than his fingers to pick. 
Kepi him honest in spite of his heart. 

But a weaver, in need 

Of some cane for hi^^ reed, 
Clapt his eyes on his wonderful rod ; 

And as he look'd about, 

.Soatch'd it up and gut out. 
And ran off unobserv'd by the God. 

But Ihe resi who «cre there, 

Cry'd, '■ O Sit, lake care, 
A lascat's tun off with your cane : 

From this window we'll walch him, 

Till you run and catch him ; 
'Tis a pity but io(,nici should be la'en. " 

oc of the fifsl tenant in ihe Town's House wa 


The God was surpriz'd ; 

So ran out as advis*d, 
But ere he was well at the gate, 

He wisely reflected, 

His bags lay neglected, 
And flies back, but arrived too late. 

All the weavers were gone, 

And of bags had left none ; 
There Merc'ry had stow'd up his wings. 

In a terrible fret 

For the loss of his bet, 
And vext for the want of his things. 

He swore he wou'd go, 

Let their Magistrates know, 
How basely, in their town, he was tricked. 

But no man would tell 

Where their Magistrates dwell. 
For fear he should forfeit his ticket. 

For the burgesses swear. 

If a stranger comes here, 
And finds himself wrong'd by a brother. 

They shall careful conceal 

Where the Magistrates dwell. 
And like true rogues stick close by each other. 

But passing the street, 

He chanced to meet 
The Doctor, return'd from a jaunt 

I low it came in his head. 

That I know not indeed, 
But to him he preferM his complaint. 

The Doctor did pause, 

And consider the cause ; 
Then uprightly he thus did decide : 

** Can they keep what they've got ? 

They're honest, no doubt. 
And justice and right's on their side. 


Ifa man but succeeds, 

He'i^ 1 fool if he heeds 
Old idle diKtinctions of schools j 

Success givea a lighl 

As cleai as day-lighl, 
And none here denies thai but fook. 

.Since the monks luft this place 

We have gotten free-grace 
To cnalile lis to cheat without sin. 

We get heaven by believing, 

And riches by thieving ; 
Ho faith makes us happy, my friend. 

Our religion is made 

To agree with our trade, 
And fimnded on scripture full plain ; 

Who best keep and catch 

Will soonest be rich ; 
And godliness sure is great gain. 

Odd justice ! you say ; 

But consider, I pray, 
It is all e'er we knew in this place ; 

And for jrou t» rcfu-se 

What the people all use. 
Will appear with a very bad grace. " 

" Vour justice !> odd," 
Kcptied the God, 
" I)o you scorn the great venge.ince ol Jove? 

"Such a law," he replies, 

" May have come from the skies, 
For ought I can say on the score ; 

Hut I have liv'd here 

Xow above forty year. 
And ne'er beard a tvoid uf 'l liefurc. 


So if you be wise, 

Take my kind advice ; 
Never speak, while you stay in this town 

Of Ihe justice of God, 

And old precepls so odd. 
As (hat every man should have his own. 

They'll swear in a crack. 

That you must be a Jack, 
Or a foe to the Union, at least ; 

They'll take it for granted. 

You're one discontented. 
Or pick you up for a Jesuit priest." 

' ' What the Devil," quoUi he, 

" Is your Union to me. 
If my rod and my wings must be lo^t ? 

That rogues will unite. 

No wise man will dispute, 
I'm convinc'd that's a truth to my cost." 

The Doctor in a fume. 

To hear him blaspheme 
The Union, which they all adore ; 
And talk about wings 
And such out-of-way things ; 
" This fellow is stark mad," he swore. 

Then, all in a fluster, 

Cry'd, " Cup, bleed, and blister ; " 
I'oor Merc'ry, by force, was drawn in. 

The Gods, at the feast, 

Shook their sides at the jest, 
Tuseehim trick'dout ofhisskin. 

But his mother came down. 

And ofTer'd a crown 
To any who knew of his things ; 

And, glad to agrte, 

I'aid the Doctor his fee, 
And the lad got his wand and bis wings 


Bur tiembling for fear 

Lest more doctors veie near. 
He tKrell; slipt out of town ; 

And mounled in hasle, 

And retum'il lo the feasl, 
Where he silently set him^lfdon-n. 

The Gods, as they quaff 'd. 

Most immod'nltely laugh'd, 
And loasled a health to the Doctor. 

Said Jove, " Friend, you've won, 

I see by your skin. 
You've sloll'n a vast deal of plaister." 

" ^'ou may laugh as you please," 

Said the Cod uf the thieves, 
" But snch nucals were never yet made, 

For I swear by my truth. 

Though a cheat from my youth, 
To them I'm .in ass at my traile." 

Now, Madam, you know 

When you used a God so, 
I was wise to slip ofT without din ; 

Kor, had 1 made stay 

Till your Doctor got clay, 
I'd come off with the loss of my skin. 

So 1 wish you good health 

And great increase of wealth ; 
And God keep your young folks all u-ell, 

And send you his grace 

Toget out ofthat place; 
So I heartly bid ynu, Farewell, 



MATTHEW SMITH, poet, was a native of Paisley ; 
but I regret that I cannot give the reader much information 
relating to his life. I bought a copy of the book which he 
published on 25th October, 1796, and written on the inside 
of the last cover in pencil, referring to the author, are these 
words — " Matthew Smith, uncle to the Rev. Mr. Pollock, of 
the South Church." Many years ago I mentioned to my 
neighbour, the late Mr. Alexander Russell Pollock, jun., 
Greenhill, ^ that I possessed such a work, and I enquired if 

* Mr. Alex. Russell Pollock belonged to a highly respectable family, 
whose forefathers were long in business in Paisley as merchants and 
cotton-spinners. Mr. A. R. Pollock was the only surviving child of Mr. 
James Pollock, silk and yam merchant, and resided at Greenhill, 
Paisley. He was a gentleman of education and culture. After 
completing his studies at Glasgow University, he was assumed a partner 
in his father's firm. To gratify his literary taste, he became the 
possessor of a large and valuable library. He did not greatly interest 
himself in public matters ; but he did not, however, shrink from publicly 
stating his views, and acting on them, at parliamentary elections. Mr. 
Pollock's family training led him to take an interest in religious and 
literary societies. In 1862 he delivered an address to Sabbath School 
Teachers, at the monthly meeting of the Free Middle Sabbath School 
Association, and the address was published at their request. In 1867 
he also delivered the opening address of the session to the Paisley 
Young Men's Christian Association, the subject being **The Study of 
Antiquities. " This able and eloquent speech was also published by the 
request of the Association. Mr. Pollock's health having commenced to 
fail, he retired from business, and in 1878 went with his wife and 
family to reside on the Continent. But no permanent advantage was 
secured, and he died at Dieppe, in France, on 23rd October, i284, in 
the 64th year of his age. Mr. Pollock's remains were brought to 
Paisley, and interred in the burial-place of the family, in the Cemetery, 
on the 27th of the same month. Mr. Pollock was gentlemanly in his 
manners, and possessed a pleasant retiring disposition. His library, 
consisting of about eight thousand volumes, was removed from Greenhill 
to London, and sold, by public roup, on 28th January, 1889, and five 
following days, realising upwards of ;f 1700. The auctioneers, Messrs. 
Sotheby, Wilkinson & Hodge, stated, in their advertisement of the sale 
of the library, that it comprised important works by Scottish writers, 
relating to Scotland ; early and rare editions of the Scriptures ; 
publications of the Abbotsford, Bannatyne, Maitland, Roxburghe, and 
other clubs ; a large collection of private printed books and tracts ; 
writings of eminent Divines, Historians, and Topographers ; valuable 


it were correct that the Rev. Mr. Pollock vas a nephew of 
the author. He said such was the case. But I made no 
further enquiries, not thinking at that time that I would, in 
some after period, be engaged in collecting materials for the 
memoirs of the Paisley Poets. 

Mr. Smith's book consists of seventy-five pages, and is 
entitled "The Dover Vision, a Poem; with Political 
Remarks, by a North-British Volunteer." it is dedicated to 
the Right Honourable the Earl of Glasgow, Colonel of the 
Renfrewshire Yeomanry Volunteers. Mr. Smith was much 
impressed with the threatened invasion of this country by 
the French nation in 1795. He states that "the chief of 
the verses and reflections was endeavouring, by an air of 
novelty, and appearing in a form out of ihe common road, 
to engage the attention on subjects of useful and interesting 

" The Dover Vision " commences as follows : — 

One niglit, when Cynthia's silver lamp 

Illutn'd the azure sky, 
And (lancing rays of northern lights 

Slreametl on the enmplur'd eye, 
A bright celestial forjn'il, 

On Albion's cliffs reclin'd. 
The sea its billows gently beav'il. 

And softly breath'd the wind, — 
When, lo ! Britannia's self, unveil'd. 

In glory sat reveal 'd, 

works on Geology, Bibliography, the li ne arts, &c. ; remarkable trials 
and peerage cases ; first and other early and rare editions of popular 
authors i specimens of early printers j standard Ixioks in general 
English and foreign literature ; portraits, topographical prints, &c., He. 
Mr. Pollock had also at his death a large collection of coins, &c., tthich 
were sold by public roup by Messrs. Duncan Keilh & M'Cloy, 
auctioneers, Glasgow, on 3rd and 4th July, I889. These, extending io 
672 lots, were thus described in the catalogue of sale as a " rare and 
valuable cabinet of coJJis and medals ; antique cabinets ; ancient 
weapons and other curios ; collection of upwards of 200 letters anil 
manuwripls; also, remainder of library, chiefly local works of interest 
and value." 

Her tight hand held an olive-branch, 

Her left Minen-a's shield- ' 
Blest Hymen's ting her fiiigcn ileck'd, 

And Juno's nuptial zone, 
Engiav'd with myrtles, loves and darts. 

And warlike trophies shone. 
She, bcck'ning, rose, and waving high, 

With graceful air, her hand. 
She Iraw'd and spoke — all naiute hush'il. 

And silence only reign 'd. 
Hail '. Britain's isle, auspicious clime ! 

Swift rise the golden ilays. 
When baneful war shall rage no more. 

And peace hct empire raise ! 
When Albion's warlike suns shall cease. 

In death, their souls to yield, 
Nor far from home, in sickly climes. 

Embrace the ensanguin'd held. 

She ceas'd; when, lo! old Neptune's car. 

With naval trophies clad. 
The ISrilish channel ro<le, and high 

Great llritain's Hag display'd. 
A lovely group of sea .green Nymphs 

Glanc'd on the Muse's eye. 
Just H'here Britannia sat reclin'd, 

Ju-t near the Dover sky. 
The moon's pale rays, with streaming flames 

Of northern lights, entwine, 
And vivi<! stars, and glowing spheres. 

Ethereal torches ^ine, 
O rule the waves, Britannia '. rule ! 

May AlliLon's Prince entwine 
With peace, and love, sweet Hymen's bliss, 

And loi^ a Monarch reign. 

The postscript at the end of this poem is signed " Philo- 

'The illustration at the commencement of "The Dover Vision" 
represents Britannia, as here described, holding in her right hand, al 
Dover, an olive-branch, with Nymphs b the fore-ground. 


The work concludes with " Harvest Walk," a poem, from 
which I give the following extract : — 

In these blest monihs, when Autumn holds 

His hospitable reign, 
And Ceres, deckM with ears of corn. 

Adorns Ihe sheaf-daii plain ; 

When bams o'erflow with treasures lili'd. 

By ftuilfnt season's bom. 
Glad reapers dance on Scotia's fields, 

And Plenty pours her horn : 

A sweet celestial vision stoix! 
In radiant glory bright, 
' Tn'as meek -eyed Peace herself, nnveileil, 
Glanc'd on the muse's sight. 

A milk-white robe flow'd loosely round 

The daughter of the sky ; 
Her swelling bosom gently heav'il 

With Mercy's tender sigh. 

Her sweet ethereal eyes shone soft 

Wilh Pity's glist'ning tear ; 
With melting kindness glowVI her heart, 

Compassion's tale to hear. 

She silence broke ; the hills ami vales 

With strains celestial ring. 
Such strains a.i saints ami virtuous song 

In blest lilyslum sing. 

"Hail! Europe, hail! the Coildess cry'd ; 
l«t nations end their strife; 
Mad War's deep game, where mankind spoi t 
With happiness and life. 

From blissful heav'nly l.ow'rs I come 

In yon ethereal sky, 
To teach the frantic soiin of men 

War's hostile rage to lly. 


Id sweet contentment's bliss to dwell. 

In friendship to embrace ; 
To live in virtue, luid to sheathe 

The blood ' stained sword in peace. 

To calm ambition's furious slotm, 

Repress pale envy's rage, 
To check wild faction's restless plots, 

Mad discord (o assuage." 

When, lo '. Britannia's awful form, 

In martial (^lory tlrcht, 
Appear'd in view ; her eyeballs roll'd. 

With grief and roge opprest. 

A spear and shield, high in her hands, 

The sea-bom goddess bore, 
The British flag, in waving folds. 

She round her shoulders wore. 

Fierce nodding plumes, a helmet bright. 

Her warlike temples presi j 
To dove-like I'eace she lurn'd her eyes. 

And thus the nymph addrest — 

" Hear, genlle Coiidess of the -Sky, 
And w iii^ ihy peaceful way 
To bleeding stales, and kingdoms inm. 
By war's destructive sway. 

" Oh, may (hy olive bnincb eitcnd 
From Nonb to Soulhem Pole ; 
Bid Arts, and I'eace, and Trade revive, 
And fruitful seasons roll. 

" Thro' climes and lields laid waste and bui 
By rapine, sword, and fire, 
WTiere blended lies the youthful son 
PierceO with the aged sire." 


JOHN M'GREGOR was born in 1790 (it is believed), in 
Moss Street, Paisley. His father belonged to the district of 
Rannoch, and his mother to that of Aberfeldy, in Perthshire. 
John, in early life, learned the trade of a twister of weavers' 
webs, at which he did not long continue, for he commenced 
business as an embroiderer of Canton crape. He remained 
at this trade all the rest of his life. He took an active 
part in the public meetings and the agitation for political 
reform, in the period which followed the ])eace in 1815, when 
trade was so much depressed. Mr. M'Gregor, in 1819, 
attended the great reform meeting held on Meikleriggs Moor, 
but he belonged to the moderate party, and it is believed he 
did not sympathise with those who were in lavour of physical 
force. He wrote the address, from Paisley, to Queen 
Caroline at the period of her trial. This procedure led to 
his being imprisoned at the instance of the Lord Advocate, 
but he was soon afterwards liberated. 

In 1824 be left Paisley for Kilbarchan, in order to obtain 
workers, so as more readily to carry on his business. In 
1815 he removed to Johnstone, but in the following year he 
returned to Kilbarchan. In 184S he came back to Paisley, 
and in 1855 he was elected by the third ward a member of 
the Town Council, and he filled his allotted period of three 
years at that board in a very quiet and listless way. In 1858 
he returned to Kilbarchan, where he died on ihe loth June, 
1870. When he first went to Kilbarchan, he married the 
eldest daughter of Robert Allan, the celebrated poet. His 
family consisted of one son, whose name is Oliver Goldsmith 



Mr. M'Gregor possessed considerable facilities in writing 
verse, and much from his pen was left behind him, but it is 
often incoherent and rambling. The following is an extract 
from a poetical piece on the state of France in 1855 : — 


Ah France I why so abject, so reckless and vile 7 
Thy madness, thy choice, mnke^ our bosoms recoil ; 
Thy wisilom, thy valour can charm us no more, 
And nations, in fellers, thy baseness deplore. 

A strong venal laclion thy cause has helray'd, 
The guilty triumphanl, the northy dismay'd ; 
Swom iaith, peace, and mercy, and justice abus'd. 
And social and moral enjoymcnl confus'ti, 

Kemorseless and sordiil thy master and foe, 

A frantic, a lawless promoter of woe ; 

The work of dire felons unceasing a-iisail, 

While blindne>is, corniption, and meannesfi prevail. 

Diclalion, compulsion, and ])illage in view, 
And men of high feeling and malice pursue ; 
What daring presumption, disorder, and shame, 
And France once so noble, now feeble and tame ! 


Ihou hasl dishonour'd [his age of our rac 
" " to eternal disgrace ; 

The weapons of war have been grossly appli 
With bsse usurpation and carnage allied. 

The sycophant brood are invented with power. 
Ambitious lo pander — obedient to cott'er — 
Obnoxious the compact — unbridled the sway, 
Integrity murder'd, the infamous prey. 



[In VI address in prose or fifteen pages, published in 1857, in pamphlet 
romi, the aathor stales that " the following poetical elTusioii is a fair and 
lamcDUble exposition of our political degradation."] 

Men of Paisley, deep in llirall, 
Why allow your fame lo fall ? 
Why uol hark lo freedom's call, 

And respond to her decree P 
Why be callous and supine ? 
Why the cause of man resign ? 
Why not aid Ihi.' high design 

To obtain your liberty ? 

Why should bondage be your lot } 
Why should reason be forgot ? 
Why endure so foul a blot, 

And this dire confusion be ? 
Why receive a nalion's blame? 
Why deserve a Trailor's name ? 
Why content to live in shame, 

Humbled in a low degree ? 

Paisley once was Urilain's boast, 
Paisley, now to honour lost. 
Paisley reared a gallant host. 

Anxious, daring to be free ; 
Now she mingles with the dust, 
Now she [rifles with her Trust, 
Now she follows sordid lust, 

Nurtured by a guilty fee. 

Now she crouches tike a slave, 

Now she figures as a knave. 

Now she seek's a coward's grave- 
Galling picture this lo sec ! 

What a scandal to our race, 

What a change of time and place. 

What a fell and black disgrace — 
Who can justify the plea ? 


Why lul Rulers cross your way? 
Hirelings lead your path astray? 
Villains barter and betray? 

Great h your servility. 
Ponder on the triumph won, 
Ponder on the miscliief done, 
Ponder on the risk you run 

While you crouch and bend the knee. 
Call to mind the days of yore, 
Leom to coml>at tyrants more, 
Value right the freeman's lore. 

Raise your voice in lofty key. 
Mark, 1 storm is dranlrg nigli. 
Gloomy clouds pervade the sky, 
When the tempest, swelling high. 

Will blow do"-Li Lomiptioi.'s Irct, 
Whose roots and boughs bo ili;e[i and wide expand, 
As to pervade and darken all the land. 


When mental faculties with (florious might 

Are lovingly and usefully applied, 
Imparling knowledge, yielding vast delight. 

Who would not lie fiaternally allied? 
When sterling probity her course maintaiiu. 

And men unite that power to represent, 
A .sacrtd induencc o'er the pros()cct reigns, 

To bless and consecrate the labour spent. 
Amid:^! our ilemonst rat ions of rcgani, 

\fany peculiar sym|iathie> conibiue 
To rou>c afTcelion due our noble lianl, 

Whose ca]itivating powers so brightly shine. 
Behold the grand result of this pursuit ! 

lluw msny thousands on his natal day 
Awake— a.ssemble — Ihal his high repute 

May be resounded with attention gny. 


ROBERT HENDRY was born at Paisley in 1791. He 
received a good education, — first at the best schools in 
Paisley, and afterwards at the Glasgow University. He 
carried on the business of a druggist in Broomlands Street, 
and latterly at the Cross, in the west comer shop at the 
head of St. Mirin Street. At the first election under the 
Burgh Reform Bill of 1833, he was elected one of the Town 
Councillors for the First, or West-end, Ward. He was also 
elected one of the Bailies by the Town Council, and acted 
as such for several years. He removed to Helensburgh for 
the benefit of his health, and died there on 30th December, 
1864, in the seventy- third year of his age. 

In 1816 Mr. Hendry published a book under the riaiii de 
Jilume of " Memoirs of Welford, to wbicii are added several 
poems and songs." While residing in Helensburgh, he also 
published " A Treatise on Life, Health, and Disease ; being 
a Compendium of Modem Physiology." It consists of 
seventy-two pages, and is a practical and valuable work. 
He was always called Dr. Hendry. 
The following is an extract from '"Campbtll, a poem": — 
'Twas on a Summer's eve, miW and serene, 
Kair fields in bloom einlN;llish'd Ihe wide jil.ain ; 
Soft flowery verdure deek'd ihc mountain's brow. 
Wild bloasora'd toses grac'd Ihe glen below ; 
When, to enjoy the sweets of parting li.iy, 
I through a valley lonely bent my way. 
Where spreading Clyde laves with incusiam roar 
The pebbled beds of Scotia's weslerii sbori\ 
The shades of nighl, slow sailing from the tist. 
Across the sky their deepening colours ca^l ; 


ToHiird Ihe «esl ihcy soflly slole along, 
Whtre llie sunk sun his evening glories flung 
On ihe confines of heaven's expansive field ; 
O'er Arran's hills Ihc soft clouds did he gild ; 
White gently blew, in sighs, the softened breeie. 
That breath'd its whispers 10 the rustling trees, 
And wandcr'd through Ihc vale, (he rivulet clear. 
Whose munnur trembled sweetly on the car. 


THHt— "Com Kiggi are Ilonny." 
Let olhcns brave the ocean's roar, 

For gain traverse il> liillows ; 
Or, landing on wild Afric's shore, 

Enilnve mankind, their fellows. 
Let others, for (he ^ke o' rank. 

Beg vacant posts and pensions; 
Or, (o promote ambitious views, 

Cause national dissensions. 

Uie nie a smiling summer day 

I'o wander up by Locher, 
Accompanied by our social core 

I'm careless o' a tocher. 
The gurgling murmur o' 1(5 stream, 

Koinantic lianks sae bonny ; 
Its gushing falls, the scenes around. 

Outshine the worth of money. 

The great ni.Ty ha'e tlitir masqueraiies. 

'Iheir feasts and balls sie splendid, 
Theit grand assemblies and levees, 

Uy dukes and carls atlende<l. 
At e'en we'll meet out o'er the gla.s.s, 

1 Ik yancUside his dearie; 
We'll joke, and laugh, nnd mak' a din 

We'll be sae blythe and cheerie. 


JAMES YOOL, one of the best of I'aisley's poets, was 
bom 3ind Febntary, 1792, in the tenement in Moss Street 
first held by the 'I'ailors' Society, now tlie site of the large 
comer buildings, erected by that association, fronting School 
Wynd and Moss Street, but now owned by Mr, William 
Richmond, baker. After receiving a very moderate education, 
he joined, when very young, the fraternity of weavers, a class 
firom whom have emanateJ so many of our Paisley poets. I 
do not know when James Yool first commenced to write 
verses, but it must have been in early life; for in 1813, when 
he was only twenty-one years of age, be published in pamphlet 
form a poetical piece of sixteen payes, duodecimo, entitled 
" The Rise and Progress of Oppression : or, the Weavers' 
Struggle for their Prices. A Tale. " Of this now very 
scarce publication I possess a copy. 'I'his effusion of the 
indignant and youthful poet was dedicated "To the 
Weavers,' in these terms :— 

Ilech ! what n r.iue I my sides are aur, 

The ilribblin' sweal fa's frac my hair ; 
I fear I'll yvt rejicnl it. 

Hut Tulk ihal's wcilin' lhin(<s ihal'.s new. 

All' that ihiiup, loo, sae unto true. 
Wad fain liat ihtni presented. 

An' that's ihe way I've cunic halcsale, 
Thro' dub an' inire a' sptashin', 

Tu dedicate to you my tntc, 
Bixause it's grown a faiihioti. 



, Sir> 

I'll tell withinil a ^wither : 
Vour seri-ant, most fervent, 
Uy trade's a weilvln' biilher. 

When the Literary and Convivial Association was first 


established in 1814, Yool took an active part in the founding 
of it, and continued to be a member throughout his life- 
time. In 1 81 5 James Yool, along with William Stewart 
(teacher), John Sunter, and David Glassford, started a 
monthly poetical publication, entitled "The Caledonian 
Lyre," and the first number, of twenty- four pages, appeared 
on 3rd April in that year. The price is not given in the 
publication ; but it was stated therein that " original 
communications were to be addressed (Post paid) to the 
Editors of *The Caledonian Lyre,' at S. and A. Young's 
Printing Office, Paisley." Only three numbers appeared, of 
which I possess the first and second. 

To the " Harp of Renfrewshire," published in 181 9, first 
edited by Dr. John Sim, and afterwards by Mr. William 
Motherwell, James Yool contributed six original poetical 
pieces of singular merit. 

Yool held strong political opinions ; and he was one 
of the select committee of three who had the charge of the 
movements of the Radical party during the years 181 9 and 
1820. The authorities at one time searched diligently for 
him, but he had concealed himself effectually, and managed 
to escape. 

In 1825 James Yool started, and edited, a fortnightly 
publication of prose and verse, entitled " The Gaberlunzie ; 
a periodical publication chiefly original." There were 
associated with him in this new literary adventure, William 
Stewart, John Fraser (of the Rcnfrtivshirc Chronicle)^ and 
John King. Twelve numbers were published. The price 
of each number was twopence. And when all the numbers 
are bound together, they make a goodly -sized volume of 
188 pages. 

James Yool was a regular attender at the L. C. A.'s 
celebrations of the birth of Burns, and he composed more 
than one song for these occasions. 


In 1832, when the Weavers' Union was formed, the 
weavers had so much confidence in his good sense, that he 
was chosen one of the members of the central com- 

In 1853, James Yool undertook the responsibility and 
labour of the editorship of another Paisley periodical 
publication, etititkd " Paisley Literary Miscellany." I'he 
fiTst number appeared in November in that year, the second 
in December, and the third and last in January, 1854. 
Each of the numbers consisted of sixteen pages, and the 
price was one penny. To these numbers, besides the 
leading "Address to our Readers," he contributed two 
prose pieces ^ — "The Cross, with an illustration;'' "Crook- 
ston, with an illustration" — and two poetical pieces, one 
of which, " Give me, give me ihe mirth, the glee," is 
given at the end of this brief memoir. The other local 
writers were W. Murdoch, J, M'Lardy, J. M'Intyre, and 
Charles Fleming. 

James Yool continued all his life to earn his bread at the 
loom, except when he was for some time in the employment 
of Mr. John Neilson, printer; and when that gentleman 
left Paisley, he continued to hold a similar situation under 
his successor, Mr. Graham, lint he left that situation and 
returned to the loom, at which he remained till his death. 
He died at number 46 Canal Street, on 7th December, 
i860, and his remains were interred in the burying -ground 
attached to the United I'rcsbyterian Church, Oakshaw 
Street, on the nth of that month. During his quiet and 
unostentatious life, besides the works which he himself 
started and contribuled to, several of his literary pieces 
appeared in other publications, at intervals, throughout the 
most of his life-time. Among these may be mentioned 
R, A. Smith's "Scottish Minstrel," 1820, and subsequent 
years^ "The Harp of Caledonia," Glasgow, 1821; "The 


Portfolio of British Song," Glasgow, 1843. James Yool was 
married, and had four sons. 

His poetical pieces were never collected and published in 
book form. But four years ago Mr. William Stewart, 
architect, Paisley and Glasgow, and himself a poet, was at 
the very great labour of collecting all the poetical pieces 
composed by James Yool, and presented them in MSS., 
handsomely bound, to the Paisley Bums Club, under the 
title, "The Poems, Songs, and Literary Recreations of 
James Yool. Collected and collated for the Paisley Burns 
Club by William Stewart." An obituary notice of Mr. 
Yool appeared in the Rmjrtwsh'tre Independml of the 
15th December, i860. 


Oh, if yc hae a heart to :i)uire, 

And jel refuse that heart to gie. 
It will but gar me try the mair 

To wile awa' that heart frac Ihce. 
For thou hast slnwn into tny breasl. 

And thou hast la'eti my hearl ana'; 
Wi' ihoiighls o' thee I've tiiu my rest, 

And yet I pardon ihee for't a'. 

1 canna want thee out my sight, 

I weary for ihee night and day ; 
'Tis Ihee 1 Ihink o" aye at night. 

When I gac ben Ihe house to pray. 
A youlhfu' life's a sinfu' lime, 

I've heard my eldriii niilhcr «iy ; 
IIul, iih I if luvc be made a crime, 

Then I hae caui« 10 be right wac. 

tor I'm >.ac caught by (.'upid'a snare, 

That if by chance I hear thy name. 
My heart play<t liunl ere I'm aware, 

And sets my bosotn in a llwne. 


Sae> if ye're willing, here's my hand, 
And dinna think mc pert or bauJd ; 

Tho' jrouog and daft, yet wedlock's band 
Will wear me wise as I grow auld. 

There's Andrew o" the Bramble -k no we. 

He vows and swears he'll hae ine so<m ; 
I'll gie his Tock anither tow, 

And gar the body change his lune. 
For I hae sworn a haly aith ; — 

And mair than thai, this very day, 
I lauld my mam and dadie hailh 

Nae ither lad than yon I'd hae. 


Give me, give me Ihe mirth, the glee. 
The lightsome heart, the laughing e"e. 
The frolic and ihe gamesome play. 
That crown'd Ihe joys of life's young day. 

The earth was full of sunshine then. 
Each wood sent forth its choral strain, 
And deep and long tho diiughl of joy 
That blcss'd my bosom when a boy. 

The bright, the beaming days of youth 
Were full of friendship, love, and truth ; 
And joy was then no filful gleam, 
For life sped like a golden dream. 

And female beauty's artless smile 
Had not yet leamcil the trick of guile; 
The cheek was soft, the eye was clear. 
The feelings warm, Ihe speech sincere. 

What pity that the fresh green leaf 
Ofearly life is still so brief; 
It buds, it blooms, then quickly sears 
With with'ring griefs and gathering years. 


The blighted hope, the brohen faith. 
The long-tried friendship sealed in death. 
From Ihe crushal heart each joy can wring. 
To which our ebbing life would cling. 
Perchance a bri{;hler lot is thine — 
A rising race around ihe« twine. 
Who, with endearments, fondly strive 
To keep life's waning joys alive. 

The artless smile, the laughing e'e. 
The frolic and the gamesome play, 
That crowns the joys of life's young day. 

The Moslem's paradise may bloom 
Wilh flowers of rich and rare perfume. 
While founts amidol its groves may play 
To coot its bright and fragrant ilay. 

And lovely l^Iouris may recline 
In bowers of dreamy, soft delight: 

For such 1 heaven I'll not repine, 
Though it were still more dauling bright. 
I'd rather dream of future bliss 
Arising from a scene like this. 
Where rank and female sweetness blend 
'i'o be Ihe poor one'.s truest friend. 

These niiiiiic bowers ['d rather prize 
Which round this spacious hall are seen. 

And gaze oji lovely, laughing eyes. 
Beaming bencaiti each syivan screen. 
When such as you, wilh seraph zeal, 
Can labour for the general weal, 
I'll never dread lltat my loved clime 
Is doomeil to misery, vice, and crime. 


Though oft (he skf may lour, I ween, 
And, robed in gloom, may mnr the view. 

Yet even then dark clouds are seen 
Kimm'd with a sun^hright golden hue. 

In fiction's legend aty page 
Fame speaks of happy golden age, 
But belter limes are yel in store 
Than ever bless'd Ihe world before. 
Let culture rouse the female mind, 

'Twill prove the richest moral soil ; 
And soon a race, redeem'd, refined. 
Will rise 10 Hess you for your toil. 

Let but a race of matrons rise- 
Meek, pious, modest, prudent, wise — 
To train the youthful pliant mind 
To deeds beneficent and kind. 

Then rase your prisons to the ground, 

And burn the haled g.iilows Iree ; 
Nor let ihe hangman's craft lie found 
Amid the cities of ihe free. 

Then peace and joy will be your lol. 
And blcs>iiiigs round your dwellings Hoat ; 
While cheruhs o'er your pillowM sleep, 
To guard your dreams will vigil keep. 
O '. say nol, ladies, I am bold, 

Or that from youlh such strains proceed 
A grey-hajr'd sire, whose heart Ls cold, 
Can love you for each holy deeil. 


Her kiss was soft and sweet, 
Uer smiles were free and fain, 

And beaming bright Ihe witching giant 
O" her I thonghl my am. 


That kisii was poison'd peace, 
Ifer smiles have tous'il ilespnir, 

For kindly ihongh her glaneei l)e 
They beam on me nae mail. 

Now lonely's every hauni 

That J once tnxl with joy, 
And dull and drear the sncreil grove 

The rose can nae iiiair, 

I'hc lily seems (o fade. 
And uaefu' seem* the blackbird's sang 

That used to cheer the glade. 



Bui now a brow of gloo 

Pourtrays, in characters of care, 

That it is pleasure's tomb. 

Yet nou. 

: shall he: 

ir the sigb 


.iruggtes , 

u lie free, 

No tear 

shall Iraci 

s this sallow cheek. 


lurmur burst from me. 


silent be i 

my woe. 

'Tis n< 

>t the less 

Forlorn I brood o 

n former joys. 

To lov 

e and me 


She minds na o' the vows 
That scal'd our youthful love, 

But Heaven has records that nill lasi 
My faith and truth 1o prove. 



WILLIAM FINLAY, the son of a weaver, was bom in 
Paisley in 1 792. The first part of his education was received 
in Mr. Bell's School, Storie Street, and he was afterwards two 
years in the Grammar Schoo!. When his father died, he was 
taken from that school and apprenticed to the weaving trade, 
at which he continued twenty years. He then gave up that 
trade and worked as a pattern setter till 1840, when he went 
into the employment of Mr. John Neilson, printer, as a 
reader.^ He latterly worked at Nethercraigs bleachfield, 
where be died o( fever, on 5ih November, 1847. 

It was known that William Finlay, at twenty years of age, 
was a composer of verses, which frequently appeared in the 

' In the euly days nf lllerature and book-making in Paisley, Mr. 
John Neilson, sen., was among Ihc (irsl, the most extensive, and even 
ihe best oflcllerpress printers. In 1772, Mr. Neilson came from Irvine 
to Paisley. He first commenced business in Paisley as a letterpress 
printer in premises at the comer of Old and New Smithhills Streets, 
now the site of the George Hotel. Kroin there he removed to loj 
Cross, afterwards to Causeyside, and later on to Merfcsworth Ilouse, or 
the old [own'house of the Brediland family, in Moss Street, at the 
foot of the present railway incline — the garden then extending all 
the way to the river, and upon pan of it now stand the County 
BuiUlings. Frotn near the latter end of the last century till his 
death, in.tSli), his name was associaleil with almost every work of 
importance that was published in Paisley. lie was succeeded by 
his only son, of the same name, who had been brought up by 
his father 10 the printing trade. The second John Neilson was 
even a more extensive letterpress printer than his lather, and many 
important works, including the first Paisley newspaper, in 1824, 
emanated from his press. He was the introducer of stereotyping as an 
industry into Paisley, in which he did a considerable business ; and in 
1S50 he removed to Gla^^w, where he might have that irailc still 
furiher eitentled. Some time after, he gave up his Paisley business. His 
friends having secured for him a small annuity lo live on. he retired 
from business alli^ther, and liveil in comfort on his moilerate income. 
When in Gla-^w one clay he met with an accident near Itniomielaw 
Bridge, having been overlume<l by a carri:^ while crossing the street. 
From this he never recovered, and shortly aftcru'anls he dic<l, in June, 
1870. A list of the number of the different publicatiims printed by the 
two Ncilsons, the father and son, would be interesting, and this I 
could give, but it would occupy too much simce in this work. 


Paisley and Glasgow newspapers. In 1846, he published a 
volume of poetry of two hundred and seventy-eight pages 
duodecimo, entitled " Poems, Humorous and Sentimental." 
Finla/s poetry possesses very considerable merit, and he is 
among the best of our local poets. Dr. Rogers says that 
his poetical characteristics are simplicity and pathos, com- 
bined with a considerable power of satirical drollery. 
Finlay was fond of company, which led him occasionally to 
indulge to excess in stimulants. In some of his poems he 
describes very touchingly the evils of intemperance. 
Ye lowering cliffs '. ye everla-iling hills ! 
Ye relain the freshness of j-oiir joulh ; 
Your blushing wild floHCru, and your crystal rills, 
Now bloom as sweetly, and l\iiw an as smooth, 
As when, with sprighlly glee, your heights I trod. 
And my young heart with swelling rapture glow' J. 
Your aspecfs change not in the course of lime, 

The feebleness of age comes not on you ; 
'Mid clouds and dnrkness still ye lower sublime. 

In smiling sunshine still ye brightly glow. 
Full many a winter with its breeics chill 
Hath swept your summits o'er— ye're lovely slilt. 
Empires hnve risen, flounced, and dccay'd — 

Ye've seen their birlh, yeVe seen their burial, loo ; 
Perhaps ye stood thus when the ark was made. 

The "Flood's" proud billows may have roU'd o'er )-ou ; 
Or ye may have liccn since the word of might 
Came from the Eternal forth, " Let there be light." 
Man, like a flower, comes forth, and, not unknown, 

May bloom a brief space in the field of fame ; 
The winds pass oi'cr it, and it is gone, 

But ye remain unshrinking, stilt the same, 
And with your silent eloquence express 
Man's poor frail span of life — his utter nothingness. 


Thae U nothii^ so pure as a giandniolher's love — 
Til > rajr of the light which comes down from above. 
It is free from all selfishness — ardent and pure — 
Through sunshine and shade it doth ever endure. 
'Tis a fresh spring of joy swelling up in the breast — 
By both word and action 'tis ever expressed ; 
Ob ! wide we may wander, but ne'er can we prove, 
In after life, aught like a grandmother's love. 

The other ielaCi(»is of life were to ine 
All mingled with self, lo a certain degree ; 
With a thread of frail texture the web was still wove. 
But no fibre was stmined in my grandmother's love. 
And though all her kindness could ne'er be retum'd. 
Still year after year with fresh brightness it burned. 
Though conscious (he while that she never could see 
The twig which it watered spring up to a tree. 

Ah ! well I remember, in Life's golden prime. 
How happy I was on her old chair to climb, 
And hang round her neck till the moment of bliss 
When she tum'd with a sweet smile and gave me a kiss. 
I lay in her bosom — she sung me to sleep — 
There I nestled till mom through the curtains did peep. 
Oh '. friends may be fickle, and flatterers prove 
There is nothing so pure as a grandmother's love. 

1 mark'd her look of agony, 

I heard her broken sigh, 
I saw the colour leave her cheek. 

The lustre leave her eye ; 
I saw the radiant ray of hope 

Her sadden'd sout forsaking, 
And by these tokens well I Itnew 

The maiden's heart was breaking. 


It is not from the hand of heaven 

Her bitter grief proceeds ; 
*Tis not for sins which she hath done 

Ilcr bosom inly bleeds. 
*Tis not death's terrors wrap her soul 

In shades of dark despair ; 
But man — deceitful man — whose hand 

A thorn hath planted there. 


Once more, Eliza, let me look upon thy smiling face, 
For there I with the **joy of grief " thy mother's features trace ; 
Her sparkling eye, her winning smile, and sweet bex^dtching air — 
Her raven locks which clustering hung upon her bosom fair. 

It is the same enchanting smile and eye of joyous mirth 
Which beamed so bright with life and light in her who gave thee birth, 
And strongly do they bring to mind life's gladsome, happy day, 
When first I felt within my heart love's pulse begin to play. 

My years were few, my heart was pure ; for vice and folly wore 
A hideous and disgusting front in those green days of yore ; 
Destructive dissipation then, with her deceitful train. 
Had not with their attractive glare confus'd and tum'd my brain. 

Oh ! well can I recall to mind how quick my heart would beat 
To see her, in the house of prayer, so meekly take her scat ; 
And when our voices mingled sweet in music's solemn strains, 
My youthful blood tumultuously rush'd tingling through my veins. 

It must have been of happiness a more than mortal dream. 
It must have been of heavenly light a bright unbroken beam ; 
A draught of pure unminglcd bliss ; for to my withcr'd heart 
It doth, e'en now, a thrilling glow of ccstacy imparl. 

She now hath gone where sorrow's gloom the brow doth never shade, 
Where on the check the rosy bloom of youth doth never fade ; 
And I've been left to stniggie here till now my locks are grey, 
Yet still I love to think upon this dream of life's young day. 



THOMAS LYLE was born in Paisley on lotli Septem- 
ber, 1792. After receiving a good education in the best 
schools in Paisley, including the Paisley Grammar School, 
he studied in the University of Glasgow, and obtained his 
diploma as a surgeon in 1816. He commenced medical 
practice in Glasgow, and, not succeeding well in his profes- 
sion, went to the village of Airth, on the south side of the 
Forth, about two miles from Falkirk. His professional 
success there not being so great as he anticipated, he 
removed back to Glasgow in 1853, and resumed his practice 
there. He died in Glasgow on iSth April, 1859. 

Thomas Lyle devoted much of his time to the collection 
of flowers and to the studying and courting the muse. The 
result of his labours was that, in 1827, he published a book 
entitled " Ballads and Songs chiefly from Tradition, Manu- 
script, and Scarce Works, with Biographical and Illustrative 
Notices, including Original Poetry." Among the original 
poetry is the popular song of " Kelvin Grove.' This song 
first appeared in " The Harp of Renfrewshire," published in 
1820, and Dr. Sim, along with Mr. Motherwell, was con- 
nected with the editing of that work. Dr. Sim went to the 
West Indies, and died there shortly after his arrival. Dr. 
Lyle's explanation is, that he gave the MS. of this song to 
Dr. Sim to have it published anonymously in " The Harp 
of Renfrewshire." Dr. Sim transcribed the song along with 
another from Dr. Lyle. After Dr. Sim's death, the MSS. 
were found by his executors among Dr. Sim's papers in his 
handwriting, and they naturally concluded that he was the 
author of " Kelvin Grove." Dr. Lyle, however, brought 
forward convincing evidence that he was the author, and 


afterwards, when the song had become very popular, sold 
the copyright to Mr. Purdie, musicseller, Edinburgh. The 
tune of " Kelvin Grove " was originally published, with an 
accompaniment for the pianoforte, by Mr. R. A. Smith, and 
subsequently by Mr. Braham. Dr. Lyle, in his botanical 
studies at the Glasgow University, was in the habit of 
visiting the banks of the Kelvin, and hence located the song 


Let us haste to Kelvin Grove, bonnie lassie, O, 
Through its mazes let us rove, bonnie lassie, O, 

Where the rose, in all' her pride. 

Paints the hollow dingle side, 
Where the midnight fairies glide, bonnie lassie, O. 

Let us wander by the mill, bonnie lassie, O, 
To the cove beside the rill, bonnie lassie, O, 

Where the glens rebound the call 

Of the roaring water's fall 
Through the mountain's rocky hall, bonnie lassie, O. 

O Kelvin banks are fair, bonnie lassie, O, 
When in summer we are there, bonnie lassie, O, 

There the May - pink's crimson plume 

Throws a soft but sweet perfume 
Round the yellow banks of broom, bonnie lassie, O. 

Though I dare not call thee mine, bonnie lassie, O, 
As the smile of fortune's thine, bonnie lassie, O, 

Vet with fortune on my side 

I could stay thy father's pride, 
And I'd win thee for my bride, bonnie lassie, O. 

But the frowns of fortune lour, bonnie lassie, O, 
On thy lover at this hour, bonnie lassie, O ; 

Ere yon golden orb of day 

Wake the warblers on the spray 
From this land I must away, bonnie lassie, O. 


Then farewell 10 Kelvin Grove, bnnnie lasiie, O, 
And adieu to all I love, bonnie lassie, O — 

To the river winding clear, 

To the fragrant scented brier, 
Even to thee, of all most dear, bonnie lassie, O. 
When upon a foreign shore, bonnie lassie. O, 
Should I fall midst battle's roar, bonnie lassie, O, 

Then Helen '. should'st thou hear 

Of thy lover on his bier. 
To his memory shed a le:ir, bonnie lassie, O, 


See, ihe glowworm liglits her fairy lamp 

From a beam of the rising moon 
On the heathy shore at evening fall 

'Ta'Ixe Holy Loch and dark Dunoon ; 
Her fairy lamp's pale silvery glare 

From the dew-clod moorland flower, 
Invites my wandering footsteps there 

At the lonely twilight hour. 
When the distant beacon's revolving light 

Bids my lone steps seek the shore, 
There the rush of the flow -tide's rippling wave 

Meets the dash of the fisher's oar, 
And the dim'Seen steamboat's hollow sound 

As she seaward tracks her way — 
All else are asleep in the still calm night. 

And robed in the misty grey. 
When the glowwonn lights her eliin lamp, 

And the night breeze sweeps the hill. 
It's sweet on thy rock -bound shores, Dunoon, 

To wander at fancy's will. 
1^1 iia I with Ihee in this solitude. 

Life's cares would pass away. 
Like the fleecy clouds over grey Kilmun 

At the wake of early day. 



I ance knew content, but its Bmiles itc awa'; 

The broom blooms bonnie an' gron-s sac fair, 
Each tried friend forsakes me, sweet Phebe an' a". 

So I ne'er will gae down to the broom ony mair. 

How light was my step, ami my heart, oh ! how gay. 
The broom blooms bonnie, the broom blooms fair. 

Till Phcbe was crowned our Queen of the May, 

When the bloom o' the broom strew'd its sweets on the air 

She was mine when the snaw-draps hung while on Ihe lea. 
Etc the broom bloom'd bonnie an' grew sac fair. 

Till May-day, anithcr wyscd Phebe ftae me. 
So I ne'er will gae down to the broom ony mair. 

Sing, love, thy fond premises melt like Ihe snaw, 
When broom waves lonely an' lilcak blaws the air, 

For Phebe to me now is naething ava' 

If my heart could say "Gang to the broom nae mair," 

Durst I (row that my dreams in the night hover o'er 
Where broom Uooms lionnie an' grows sac fair, 

'I'hc swain (who, while waiting, thou thinks of no more), 
Whiap'ring " I^ve, will ye gang to the broom ony mait ?" 

Xo ; fare Ihi-c well, Phelie, I'm owre wac to weep. 
Or 1(1 think o' the broom growing iKjnnic an' fair, 

Since ihy heart is anilhcr's, in death I maun sleep, 
'Ncalh the broom un the lea an' the bawm sunny air 



ALEXANDER BORLAND was born on 4th September, 
i793i ^^ Bridge Street, Paisley, where his parents at that 
time resided. After receiving his education at school, he 
was successively a weaver, shawl -pattern designer, shawl 
manufacturer, coal merchant, dyer, and banker. His 
partner when a shawl manufacturer was John Caldwell, who 
absconded to America with all the money and stock belong- 
ing to the firm, causing Mr. Borland to seek a ^settlement 
with his creditors. Caldwell took with him goods to the 
value of ^^4800, and about ;;^2ooo in money.^ The person 
whom the creditors sent to New York secured a portion of 
the goods, but none of the money. Mr. Borland intercepted 
and opened in Paisley a letter from Caldwell to his wife and 
another to his son. For committing this offence Mr. Bor- 
land was tried in June, 1826, before the High Court of Jus- 
ticiary, and sentenced to six weeks' imprisonment in Paisley 
Jail. On 'the expiry of the period of confinement, he was 
entertained by a numerous company at a public dinner 
in the Renfrewshire Tontine Inn, Paisley. 

When the Clydesdale Banking Company established 
a branch of that bank in 1 844, Mr. Borland was appointed 
agent. When this branch bank was given up two years 

' In October, 1825, a subscription was opened for the pui-pose of 
erecting a spire upon St. George's Church. The Town Council, in 
addition to the large sum they expended in founding and raising the 
fjpire to its present height, subscri])ed jC2SO to furnish a clock and bell 
for the same. John Caldwell, the partner of Mr. Borland, was the 
treasurer to this subscription fund ; and when he absconded to America 
he took with him what money had been subscribed and collected be- 
longing to this fund. It therefore afterwards became a common saying 
in the town, that ** Caldwell ran away with the spire of St. George's 
Church." I do not know the amount of the money he had thus 


afterwards, he went to Glasgow to commence business as an 
accountant. Before leaving, he was, on the i6th June, 
1846, entertained at a public dinner in the Saracen's Head 
Inn — Provost Murray in the chair. 

Mr. Borland was the author of " The Brown Cleuck On," 
" The Decision," " The Leg of Mutton," " Crofthead Yarn," 
and other poetical pieces, but they were never collected and 
published together. I give the first of these pieces : — 


Music by R. A. Smith. 

Some chaps are ne'er at rest 
But in crouds o' lasses prest, 
A' drest up in their best, 

\Vi' their kirk claes on ; 
But I pleasure greater find. 
And a mair contented mind, 
Wi' a lassie true and kind 

Wi' a brown cleuck on. 

» »> 

My father, honest carle, 
Cries, " Oh ! this weary warl*. 
My verra heart does harl. 

For joys he gets nane ; 
Yet weary though it be. 
It never fashes me, 
When my comforter I see 

Wi' her brown cleuck on. 

Our gentry that are great. 
And who ride in pompous state. 
May thank their lucky fate 

For the dress they ha'e on ; 
Vet though in state they move, 
But cauldrife is their love 
Compair'd wi* my sweet dove 

W^hen her brown cleuck 's on. 


My mother sbe cries, " Son, 
Thou Bit lucky soon begun 
Wi' laiscs for lo run- 
It's ruin's road ye're on ;" 
Though I halflins think she's righl. 
Yet bcrsel', when young, at night 
She could hide a lad frae sight, 
Wi' her brown clcuck on. 
There's some, nae doubi, do cry, 
'TIS her dress that tahes my eye. 
When me she paise* by, 

Wi' her silks and satins on ; 
Sic clavering longuei may cease. 
For what's the silk pelisse 
To a gloaming walk in peace 

Wi' her brown cleuck on. 
Even my grannie cries, " Beware !" 
Maist afraid her ringlets fair 
Will my youthfu' heart ensnare, 
When her gala dress is on, 
Bui has my grannie seen 
The smiling charms o' Jean, 
When she gaes out at e'en 

Wi' her brown cleuck on ? 
I heard my uncle tell. 
When wi' a lass himsel'. 
When he heard the Itn-hsurs' -M, 

lie for hame hied an ; 
A' sic whims I've laid aside. 
For III! morning I can bide. 
When my lassie's at my side 
Wi' her brown cleuck on. 
It was the fashion for women, till about the end of 
the third decade of the nineteenth century, to wear a brown 
cloak when they went out to the open air. Some of the 
cloaks were scarlet, and many of ihcm of the best West of 
England broad -cloth. 

Mr. Alexander Borland died on 17th April, 1S58. 


WILLIAM ANDERSON was a native of Paisley, having 
been born in Storie Street in July, 1793. His father was a 
farmer in the parish of Sorn, Ayrshire, and came to Paisley 
about the middle of last century, when so many were hurry- 
ing from several parts of the country to obtain high wages at 
the weaving trade here, just as the crowds rushed some time 
ago to the gold diggings in Australia to amass money rapidly. 
William, of course, learned with his father to be a weaver. 
In 1833, he added to his trade of weaving the business of 
selling books and stationery, along with some other house 
furnishings, in a shop in Townhead, but afterwards at No. 60 
High Street, where he remained till his death. His son, 
James Anderson, was chiefly engaged in attending to the 
business in this shop till he joined the British Army in 1843, 
when his father had to take his place. Mr. Anderson, while 
managing'the shop, commenced to publish a periodical fort- 
nightly. The first number, of eight pages, appeared on 27lh 
November, 1852, and the price was one penny. It was 
entitled the " Netc Paisley Repository, consisting of essaj's, 
poems, songs, and other curious and scarce pieces, original 
and select." The title-page, besides being ititistrated with 
two large-sized Seotch Thistles, had on it the following : — 

" Paisley is an anijilc, fertile, luxurious field for gciiius in producing, 
but barren in ijrixlucing any reward for a publisher. " 
'• J'aisley is a Heaven lo conceive in, 
But an Iceland to bring forth." 

The last publication of this periodical was on 21st May, 
1853 — in all, twelve numbers — the final note being as 
follows 1 — " N.B. — Although there is abundance of matter 
which I am both able and willing to produce and select, yet 
1 have met with so told reception without (with a few excep- 
tions), and warm opposition within on that account ; and as 


the town is now pregnant with twin newspapers,' I will for 
the present discontinue this trifle." Mr. Anderson died on 
24th March, 1861, Late in life, he commenced to indulge, 
to a small extent, in making rhyme, and I give a specimen 
of his efforts in that way. Shortly after Mr. Anderson's 
death, his son, James .\nderson, returned from the army, 
and conducted successfully, at No. 6a High Street, the 
business which his father left, till failing health made it 
necessary for him to dispose of the stock of goods. He 
died shortly thereafter, on znd October, 1885. I knew 
James Anderson well, from his having frequently sold books 
to me, and purchased books for me at public sales, and I 
invariably found him to be a trustworthy, upright, and 
honest man. 

(In lomplianee nitli tki nr.t' Urgistration Act.) 

At Terra Finna, born alive, 

'Midst howling tempest-i, Fifty-five,' 

The drunkards joined all in the choru;:, 

And lent Ihcir aid lo blustering Boreas ; 

The Methodists tent sighs and tears, 

Both at the death and birlh of yean: ; 

Slaters and glaiiers were right glad. 

As Ihcy thought it would help their ;rade ; 

I sleepless lay and multereil curses 

Upon its base obstrc[)craus nurses. 
Auld Time has now grown somewhat hoary, 

And, ah me \ lamentably gory. 

It's one of the Apocalyptic years, 

For Gog's la'en Magog by the ears, 

(We learn in Foil newspaper school 

That Armageddon's Sebasiapool),' 

' This refers 10 the Paisley Herald and the P.ihlry Journal, about ti 
be commenced. 

' 1854 was a year of excitement, and 1S55 was ushered in with a re 
markably high wind. — Aullisr. 

» See /Vi/ newspaper, No. l^\. — Au!hiir. 



And every one's crying, su wasf. 
To grip him laigh and haud him fast, 
And each has slipped his fell bloodhounds 
For to inflict most deadly wounds. 
Old hostile foes are joined quite crouse 
To attack the Badger's icy house ; 
Though it beat Bully Bonaparte, 
And Charles XII., sae rash and smart aye. 
They laughed at Alexander th' Great,* 
Made him for once to cry, ** Own beat." 
Many have contributed their jewel 
For to supply the war with fuel ; 
When Aaron sets up a golden calf, 
Folk rally round on his behalf. 
Gane like the big paraded scone 
That year potato rot came on. 
Our folk's a' idle, trade's in ruin, 
Caus'd by the hurlyburly Bruin. 
Sham-fights and tournaments are past. 
War to the knife has come at last — 
War is the all -engrossing theme 
With most of people — fye ! for shame ! 

* See " Bible Dictionary," article ** Gog." It throws much light on 
this subject and time, and is particularly interesting. — Author. 


WILLIAM STEWART was born in Paisley on 29th 
June, 1793. He belonged to the humble classes, and only 
received a small amount of school education ; but by per- . 
sonal perseverance and close application, be raised himself 
to considerable eminence as a mathematician and chemist. 
He took a great interest in the management of the Philo- 
sophical Institution, and frequently lectured on chemistry. 
Mr. Stewart was one of the founders of the L.C.A,, and 
many of the members, by means of his lectures and conver- 
sations, acquired some knowledge of science. 

Mr, Stewart conducted successfully a school in the New 
Town. I find from the Paisley Directory of 1828-29 ^^^ 
name of " William Stewart, Teacher of Mathematics, No. 1 2 
Gauze Street." In the Directory of 1834-35 he is designed 
" Teacher, 30 Gauze Street." As a man, he was kind, 
lively, and urbane in his manners, modest and diffident in 
society, and retiring in his habits. The changes that were 
taking place in the educational arrangements in the town, 
and the agitation about new legislative measures in education, 
made him fear for the future, and induced him to emigrate 
to Canada. He was a teacher till within a few months of 
his death, which took place on 24th August, 1866, at the 
age of 73. 

Mr. Stewart, amidst all his scientific pursuits, devoted 
some of his time to the muse. Two of his poetical pieces 
are recorded in the minute-book of the L.C.A. I am not 
aware that any of them were ever printed. I give them as 
they there appeared. 




Full seven years young Owen sen'ed 
His country in her wars. 

Yet all his honours, all his gain. 
Were many ghastly scars. 

Ills country's foes at length subdued, 
And peace restored again, 

He left the bustling noisy camp 
And sought his native plain. 

With joy his manly bosom beat. 
He now forgot his toil. 

Ambition fled ; he only wished 
To gain Eliza's smile. 

" No more, Eliza, will I leave 
My native plain nor thee, 

But spent in rural sport and love 
My future life shall be." 

Thus spake young Owen when he saw 
The cottage where she dwelt ; 

He spake, but tongue could ne'er express 
The happiness he felt. 

** Farewell ! ** he cric<l, and look'd behind, 
** Farewell, ye scenes of strife ! 

Honour and glor)', what are ye 
Compared with private life ? " 

He turned, and thro* the churchyanl path 

With eager steps he flew, 
When, lo ! a humble monument 

His whole attention drew. 

** .Some of the village swains, alas ! 

Have clos'd life's transient day," 
He said, and calmly turned aside 

To read the rustic lay. 


He read^the blood forsook his face, 

His trembling lip grew p^e — 
" Here lies the fairest of her sex, 

Eliia of the Vale." 
Frantic with grief, he clasped his hands— 

" And is she gone '. " he cried ; 
Nor spoke he more, for down he sunk. 

Embraced the grave, and died. 


IVriitm in 1S13. 

Nochinf u ■nore uti^ictory ttun lo be ccrUia of luch » fnend i% will overlook 
00c 'f Xuimet- — Fopt. 

Accept, dear James, my fond endeavours 

To render thanks for my past favouis — 

Such favours, Sir, I well may say. 

As empty thanks can ne'er repay ; 

For "thanks are but a draff cheap phrase," 

As Rob,' our Paivley poet, says. 

Since thanks are then sae useless lo you, 

An offer, Sir, I'll frankly gic you. 

I hae some beuks, Iho' no that raony, 

O' various kinds, both douce and funny ; 

And gif ye like, be't sang or play, 

I'll gie you ony ane I hae. 

Twad take by far over muchle time 

To twist their lilies inlo rhyme, 

Or else I'd name them a' unto you — 

A general hint maun therefore do you. 

First, then, I've only ae novel, 

Or ralher. Sir, ihey ca't a tale ; 

Ae book 0' voyages an' travels, 

An' Iwa o' godly auld John Flavel's ; 

The history o' a Highland rebel ; 

A tattered, auld, worm-eaten Bible. 

In line, to make a lang tale short, 

I've some o' science, some o' sport ; 

' Robert TannahiU. 


An', wad ;e lliink it, I hae even 
A few that show the road lo heaven. 
The few that's o" ihe meny mood 
Ve'll aiblins think them very good i 
But as for them they term religious, 
They're a' tang-winding and litigious 
An' tho' ye read a twalmonth on them, 
You'll hardtf come lo understand them. 
But, please to understand me here, 
I'm keepin' still the Bible clear ; 
For tho' it's been, without a doubt, 
The cause o' mony a lang dispute. 
Vet search the globe in every nook. 
Yell no 6nd sic a usefu' beuk. 
Tho', quietly, James, I'm much ariaid 
It's far mair spoken o' than read. 
In fact, my frien', I'm far mista'en 
If e'er wc fin' anither ine 
Will serve sae mony ditTrent anes. 
Or yet employ sae mony pens ; 
In truth, sac mony cuifs wi't meddle. 
They make it just a kind o' fiddle. 
That plays B-haie'cr the owner fancies- 
Reels, jigs, strathspeys, or kintra dance*. 
For instance, ane wi' burning zeal 
For yon auld fire-and- faggot reel. 
Ploys up the Cameron rant. 
The Solemn League and Covenant ; 
Anither rins a ditTrent rig, 
A kind o' universal jig. 
An* sings, in unison with reason. 
That h— 1 will la^i but for a season. 
In short, 'twad lak' me twa-ihrec days 
To tell what every party plays ; 
For even amang our parish clergy 
I'm tauki— but speak nae o't, I charge ye- 
There's some that, like Inie sons o' rosin, 
Play jigs whiles o' their ain composin'. 
But, lest ye should inform the session, 
I'll l>etler end this lang digression. 
Or aiblins I may hae to stan' 


The r>ct sfore Ihe holy ban.' 
By tbis time, James, I really doubt 
Your patience will be fairly out ; 
And truth, my lad, it canna miss, 
Ve seldom meet v\' stuff like this. 
My faults, I ken, ye'll plainly see them. 
But then, I ken, ye will forgi'e them. 
An' Ibat'i nae sma' cousidenition 
To imc in sic a humble station. 
Believe me, I'm sincere and fervent, 
Your much obliged humble servant. 


The piist b clouded with grief and gloom. 

Depressed my days I spend. 
The future is dim as Ihe shade of the lomb- 

Oh 1 when shall my troubles end ? 
No spirit kind dispels my fear 

As 1 wend to the quiet grave. 
But my path is drear, nor friends are near 

To succour, lo bless, to save. 
An evil voice, like the storm, I hear. 

All cruel as ocean's surge, 
Exulting the while with its living wile 

While singing thus my dirge — 
" Before ihee rolls a sea of strife 

In remorseless majesty. 
And on trembling wing shall the storm-bird sii 

Thy requiem to the sky." 

In the light of my soul hath arisen a star 

That smiles on the surging wave, 
And its kindly beams have chased my dreams 

Of sadness back to the grave. 
I'll heed not earth as I urge along, 

liut steadfast seek the goal, 
And bless the glad ray that illumes the way 

To the Bethlehem of my soul. 

' Ramsay's "Gentle Shepherd." 



DAVID RORRISON was a native of Paisley. He fol- 
lowed the trade of a handloom weaver, and was a respect- 
able, well-behaved man, and a good tradesman. He worked 
at the loom as loi^ as his health permitted him to do so, 
but when his strength began to give way, he went about the 
town selling tea and tobacco to gain a livelihood. He died 
about twelve years ago. Like many other handicraftsmen 
engaged in plying the shuttle, he was a votary of the Muses, 
and was the author of many poetical pieces which cannot in 
the meantime be found, as they were given to a relative, and 
it is suspected they were destroyed by some one who did not 
know their value. The more is the pity if they were equal 
to his poetical piece called the "Twa Bells," which ap- 
peared in a periodical entitled " The Paisley Miscellany," 
the first number of which was published on 32nd September, 
1823. Each number of this periodical, whose existence was 
of short duration, consisting of 36 pages, was without printer 
or publisher's name, and the price was threepence. The 
poetical piece possesses considerable merit, and as the sub- 
jects referred to in it are eminently local, they are the more 
interesting to those who know the " locale." 

The first bell that was placed in the High Church steeple 
in May, 1776, weighed 1050 lbs., and cost ^^75. \Vhen 
rung on the joyous occasion of the accession to the throne 
of George IV., 29ih January, 1820, it was unfortunately 
cracked. The money to provide a new bell was raised by 
subscription, and the dialogue in this piece of rhyme is sup- 
posed to have taken place between the old bell while in its 
place in the steeple, and the new bell while it remained in 
the porch of the church previous to its being fixed in the 
highest sti^e, for which it was destined. The new bell, 


which weighed 18 cwt. i qr., was thus inscribed, " S. Mears, 
of London, fecit 1823." It was called " Roarin' Tom " and 
"Jolly Tom," in compliment to Mr. Thomas Farquharson, 
who had been the most active in obtaining subscriptions, — 
hence the name of " Tom " for the new bell in the poetical 
I 2dd a few words of explanation : — 

She wee) could coum, when healths were by, 
Upon her reel and tipp'ny pye. 
This alludes to the drinking of the King's health. 
In ninetf-five true I did join 
To proi^ wben all praised Caroline. 
The Prince of Wales was married 8th April, 1795. 
Should Andrew file your Tory jaw, 
I'd swear sae crouse ye wuulilna craw." 
This alludes to the attempt of the ingenious Mr. Andrew 
Blackie, engraver, to file out tlie crack, and restore the 
original sotind, but the tone remained defective. 

The lasl rejoicing thai ye rung. 

Ye, like a fool, flung out your longue. 
Bells in steeples are generally hting so as to swing, when 
rung, from east to west ; but in this case the bell was sus- 
pended so as to oscillate from south to north, with the view 
of causing the sound to pass more freely through tlie arched 
opening in the south side of ihe steeple, towards those men 
of business in Plunkin and Causeyside who had subscribed 
the greater portion of the cost of the new bell. The tongue 
of the bell did not, according to my information, become 
detached from the bell on any special day of rejoicing, as 
here stated, but the occurrence took place on Sunday when 
the bell was being rung to gather the congregation for public 
worship. On that occasion, the tongue of the bell broke 
loose from its fastenings, passed through the opening in the 
steeple already mentioned, and alighted on the ground close 


to the elders who were "standing at the plate," so that they 
made a narrow escape from being killed or seriously injured. 
To prevent such a casualty lecuning, bars of iron were fixed 
in this opening in the steeple, which remain there at the 
present day, 

David Rorrison was on the best of terms with his brother 
local poets, and among others he had for his companions 
Charles Fleming, William Murdoch, Alexander Smith, and 
David Picken. 


Ae nighi when iLpsy an' owre lale, 

Gaun slachering by the Hie Kirk gale, 

I thought I heard b sound come doon 

Frae the high baltlemenis aboon, — 

A solemn, plaintive, lengthened iilrain, 

Like that of wailing age in pain. 

Then next I heard a hollow noise, 

A stoure, unearthly, queerish voice. 

It seemed as frae a grave it spoke. 

Responding upwards lo the clock. 

My halt stood up, I didna ken- 
It might be ghosts or doctors' men. 

Maist black wi' fear, my teeth a' chacking, 

I, listening, heard the twa bells cracking. 
Auld Clinirr. 

Well, Tarn, my lad, ye 're come at last. 

My ringing days I Tear are past ; 

I'm like the horse, his master's pride 

While he can gallop, race, and ride, 

Hut when he canna race or rin. 

Why, then, they sell him for auldskin. 

Whisht, whisht, Auld Clinker, an' come doou, 

Vour Jaws are crack'd, ye've lost your soun', 

I'd just as soon hear an auld kettle — 

''I'wBS best to sell you for auld metal. 

What say'st Ihou? thoughtless, unliy'd boy, 

I've &een more days of guiltless joy 


Than ever thou wUt see or tell 
Whilst thou remains a jciwling belL 
Langsyoe, on solemn, holy day&, 
My voice join'd in the sacred praise, , 
While a' attending at the hour, 
Frae Three-mile House to Thomly Moor ; 
Nor in the kirk nor on the slreet 
Could there be seen a hypocrite. 
But now, all's empty show and cant — 
Two hypocrites for every saunl. 
How blythe was 1 on king's birthdays 
To raise my voice in Geordie's praise ! 
Blythe rose the echoes o' our (own 
As morning dawned on fourth o' June ; 
The weaver lads a' left the loom 
To cut the birk or yellow broom ; 
The callans through the street then frisked, 
Wi' oak and hawthorn blossoms busked ; 
The aulder chiels, by captains squadded, 
Wi' drums and da^s the town parauded ; 
Whilst auld and young join'd to applaud, 
And blythe each lass blink'd to her lad — 
She weel could count, when healths were by. 
Upon her reel and tipp'ny pye. 
Our working lads had cash to spare, 
Their hearts were light and free ftne care. 
But, mind me, lad, while ye remain, 
Yell ne'er see days like thae again. 

What care I for your weaver lads, 
Vour drums, your flags, or braw paiades ! 
Auld Clinker, you're a Whig, I smell. 
But I'm a staunch, sound Tory bell. 

In ninety-five, true, I did join 

To praise when all pmised Caroline. 

Though some for interest then did praise her, 

For interest, too, as far debase her ; 

Just like the cock aboon my head. 

That turns his tail to ony need ; 


Vei liule thoufiht I, lei me tell. 

Her fate iwailed on mysel'. 

And, Tam, if e'er they chance to crack you, 

Voull find you'll get few friends to back you ; 

Should Andrew file your Tory jaw, 

I'd swear sae crciuse ye wouldna' craw. 

What ! files were made, ye hash, for you. 
And no for me and bells sprit new ; 
The last rejoicing that ye rung, 
Ye, like a fool, flung out your longue. * 

Confoand Ihe blockhead chiels who sent ye, 
Ve dandy fop, they ought to painl ye ; 
I ne'er was like those creeping sinners. 
To ring and jowl for burgess dinners. 
My dignity I aye could show. 
And lea' that dtudgeiy below ; 
Yet proud aye in my country's cause 
To gar my tongue rap lo my jaws. 
And raise my voice o'er hill and vale. 
Till echoes waked. Gleniffer's dale. 

Ring for your country's cause, ye fool ! 

The warld kens ye're just a tool. 

Yc maun come down, however sorry — 

Sae come your wa's — let up a Tory. 

Audacious numbskull ! young and rude ; 

Tis nought but place lliat Rrcs your blood ; 

Just like the rest o' a' your race, 

Yc're only Tory for the place. 

And for the lucre Ihal it brings 

You'd thole the fiercest conscience stings. 

Wha drave the Stuarts frae Ihe nation, 

And brought altout the Refonrnilion ? 

Wha then was't silenc'd a' the jars, 

Or brought us through the civil wan? 


Whn baulked priests and prelacf, 

And left the kirk and nation free? 

Or placed the Brunswick on the throne ?— 

Was't Whig or Tory, will ye own ? 

Stare wi' jour swarthj bnucn face ; 

Think ye a Whig ne'er held a place. 

I own (hey did } but then their pride 
Was sueh, that in'i they couldna bide. 
Kings were nae mair then in the nation 
Than elders now in scandal session ; 
And if ihey didna mind their words, 
Then drew (hey forth their aw'some swords, 
Declar'd 'iwas for the country's cause, 
And gar'd their kings respect the laws. 
To all they pry'd, to all they look'd, 
Which was by kings on earth ne'er brook'd ; 
And now ye'il cry ai gaun to ruin 
Because nae langer they'll keep you in. 

Proud may they be, nor prone lo yield. 
King John knew Ihal at R.un'mede lield ; 
Like you had they been, all was lost — 
Theirs is the all you have to boast ; 
Though not the first, I must declare it, 
Wha'ii boa^teil frae anithcr's merit. 
And what's the cause, Tarn, can ye toll ? 
It's aiblins ye've got nane yourse!'. 
Kings geti their will, and statesmen, too ; 
To get your pouch and belly fu', 
Ve eate nae mair the nation's good 
Than keep you in warm clies and food. 

Mair merit we hae got tae boast 
Than a' the Whigs, wi' a' the host— 
A disconlented, growling crew, 
Wha'll neither act, nor lei us do. 
We kept the battle frae the lanil. 
And round the throne we farmed a band ; 


Vie dangers brav'd in every form. 

We sleer'd Ihe vessel through the stonn ; 

And as the rocks repel the tide, 

Drove Radicals on every side. 

And will ye, friend, believe your een, 

Such beings now are rarely seen. 

We view'd (hem as our country's foes. 

But whar they're now, I/ird only knows. 

Had Rads. been fed and clad like you, 
My friend, their numbers wouJd bccu few ; 
But men enduring ilk privation, 
With nought to look on but litarvation— 
And why all this, full well 'lis known, 
To place a Bourbon on a throne. 
And drive, as 'twere, by magic wand. 
The form of freedom from their land. 
Thus Britons boast to free the slave, 
And with their hands dig freedom's grave. 

Can you declare that France was free, 
When all was blood and anarchy ? 
Theit king they to the scaffold led, 
And holy priests in thousands bled. 
They did and said such horrid things. 
As men had ne'er been made for kings. 

She buist her chains, and, need ye wonder, 
The darker clouds the louder thunder. 
Dark was her night, languid her eye. 
Till freedom Hash'd across tbc sky ; 
Nor 'customed to the brilliant glare. 
She rose, she fought in wild despair ; 
And they who trampled millions had 
To pay the reckoning with their blood. 
Kings, while they rul'd for mankind's good. 
Mankind have always firmly stood. 
'Tis a nation's will lo have a throne, 
The nation's strength its strength alone. 


REV. CHARLES MARSHALL was bom in the east- 
most house, Millarston, Paisley, on and June, 1795. He 
was the eldest of a family of three sons and eight daughters. 
His father was a weaver to trade, but became connected 
with the Paisley manufacturing business. The future poet 
received a fair education, such as was given in the ordinary 
schools at that time. He was reckoned a precocious boy, 
and is said to have held a foremost place in his class at 
school. TannahiU was a frequent visitor in his father's 
house. They also corresponded. In David Semple's " Life 
of Taonahill" (pages 374, 428), TannahiU desired those 
he was corresponding with to be " remembered most 
affectionately to Mr. Marshall," his father. Charles was a 
great reader, and manifested in early life a strong love for 
literature. He learned the business of a pattern designer 
in connection with Paisley shawls and other fabrics. 

Possessing superior talents and thorough habits of perse- 
vering work, he succeeded, notwithstanding the great 
difficulties he had to encounter from the want of funds, in 
securing an excellent education. In the winters of 1822 and 
1823 he attended two sessions in the Glasgow University. 

To enable him to attend the Edinburgh University, he 
removed to that city, but still, as in Paisley, he contmued to 
prosecute his business there in order to realise a livelihood 
and the means to pay for his education. 

In 1826, he completed the philosophical curriculum at 
the Edinburgh Universiti'. During the following year, he 
received the important appointment of Governor of John 
Watson's Institution, Edinburgh, which situation of high 
trust and great responsibility he tilled for the long period of 


thirteen years. The Managers were so pleased with his 

conduct, and appreciated his services so highly, that, from 
time to time, they greatly increased his emoluments. They 
also allowed him to attend and prosecute his studies at the 
Divinity Classes. One of the rules of the Institution was 
that the Governor should be unmarried ; and the Managers, 
thinking he might thereby be induced to remain, resolved 
that this restriction should be withdrawn. But his great 
ambition was that he should be a clergyman, and " wag his 
head in a pulpit " belonging to the Church of Scotland. 

In 1840, on his theological studies being finished, he was 
licenced as a probationer of the Established Church. Id 
1841, he received a call from the congregation of the North 
Parish (quoad sacra), Uunfermline, erected shortly before 
that time at a cost of ;^i6oo, which call he accepted, and 
he u'as ordained to the pastorate on 16th July following. In 
1843, he joined the Disruption party in the church, but 
remained in possession of the church building till 1849, 
when the House of Lords finally decided that quoad sacra 
churches were the property of the State Church. He had 
therefore to leave his church, and was followed by nearly 
the whole of his people, who set about the erection of a new 
church in connection with the Free Church, and it was 
opened by the Rev, Dr. Begg in October, i860. The funds 
required for the erection of this church were mainly obtabed 
through the never- failing exertions of Mr. Marshall. He 
soon gathered around him in the new church a large and 
influential congregation. 

Early in his ministerial life, Mr. Marshall's health began 
to fail, which caused his frequent absence from active labour 
and the appointment of assistants to occupy his place. From 
this unfortunate circumstance, the congregation decreased 
in numbers from what it had been in the days of Mr. 
Marshall's prime. In 1866, Mr. Marshall retired altogether 


fixMn the charge of the congregation, and at the close of that 
year Mr. Brown succeeded him in the pastorate. 

Mr. Marshall, as a preacher, was always earnest and 
impressive, and as a pastor his visits were greatly desired. 
In social circles, his conversation was always original and 
genial. He was a perfect master of the Scottish language, 
and could use it with great effect whether in speaking or 
writing, as will be seen when I come to write of his literary 

Mr. Matshall first removed his residence to Glasgow to 
live with his sister, Mrs. Dunlop, but he afterwards went to 
reside in Edinbu^h, which best suited his tastes. During 
the whole period of his residence in Edinburgh, he held the 
office of elder iu the congregation of his esteemed friend, the 
Rev. Dr. Begg. In church matters, he was, like Dr. Be^, 
a thorough conservative. 

Mr. Marshall was acquainted with his eminent townsman, 
"Christopher North," and communicated with Mr. Carlyle, 
Elihu Burnt, Longfellow, Dr. Chalmers, Dr. Guthrie, and 

Id his eighty-second year, Mr. Marshall married Miss 
Bicket, the daughter of one of his former elders when in 
Dunfermline. She proved a kind companion and willing 
nurse to him in his old age. 

Mr. Marshall, being partially blind, was knocked down 
near RankeUlor Street by a passing cab, his whole frame 
receiving a severe shock. Indeed, he was so seriously 
injured that he never recovered, but died at his residence, 
Livingstone Place, Edinburgh, on i6th June, i88a, in the 
eighty -seventh year of his age. Being related to Mr. 
Marshall by marriage, I, by invitation, attended his funeral, 
and the services were conducted by the Rev. Dr. Begg. 
Mr. Marshall's remains were interred in Grange Cemeiery. 
At the interment, the Rev. Dr. Begg informed me that Mr. 


Marshall, in one of their walks together a few weeks 
previously, took him to the Cemetery and pointed out the 
spot which he had secured as the resting-place for his 
remains, thereby shewing his preparedness for his change. 

Mr. Marshall was the author of several prose and poetical 
pieces. His connection with the periodical entitled " The 
Moral and Literary Observer," published in Paisley in 1823, 
is explained in the notice relating to Mr. John Dunn, to be 
hereafter referred to. 

In 1856, Mr. Marshall published a book of loi pages, 
mostly prose, but interspersed with some poetical pieces, 
entitled " Homely Words and Songs for Working Men 
and Women." This volume is addressed to " Wives and 
Mothers." A second volume, with the same title, was pub- 
lished in 1878, along with the first volume, being the fourth 
edition. Shortly after the publication of the first volume of 
this work, there appeared in a Dunfermline newspaper a 
series of articles by Mr. Marshall under the heading of 
" Licht frae the Smiddy of Saunders Dinwuddie." These 
articles, which were entirely prose, were afterwards collected 
and published in a volume of 207 pages duodecimo. In 
1873, he published a volume of prose of 52 pages under the 
title of " Winter Evening Conversations of Free Kirk 
Ladies." " This little book," he states, " is respectfully 
dedicated to the working men and women who hold fast the 
principles of the Free Kirk and have not forgotten their 
mother- tongue." 

Mr. Marshall's most continuous effort in poetry is entitled 
** The Watchman's Round in the Way of Life and the Way 
of Death," and is meant to exhibit in contradistinction the 
principles and motives that rule the Church and those that 
rule the world. In a series of twenty -three character 
sketches, all in the same style of verse, he pourtrays the king, 
the peasant, the sincere man, the hypocrite, the godly man, 


the atheist, and so on. The Watchman goes his round of 
all their doors and asks, " What cheer ? " The answer 
reveals the key-note of a life which is developed in sweetest 
hanoony or in jarring discords. All the sketches are dis- 
tinguished by great vigour and a life-like filling in of details. 
I give the following as a specimen of these sketches ; — 


Tbe Ion of God u ihed abmsul in oui heaiti by the Ho[y Ghoit. 

Knock at the Christian's door and sajr — 
" Dwells love with thee u>d Ihlne ? " 

A Toice replies^" Ay love, true love; 
Love better by far than wine — 
The richest, niciesl Hrine. 

" Under Love's shadowing wings we sing, 

A happy, a blessed band 

Of joyful pilgrims marching on, 

On lo the belter land— 

The holy and happjr land. 

" By faith led on, we tread the path 

Which truth and grace have Irod, 
Holding high converse with our Friend, 
Our Saviour and out God — 
Oar Father and our God. 

" We see God's mercies pouring down 
On earth from Heaven above, 
And sing for joy as they descend 
In golden ahow'rs of love — 
Unchanging endless love. 

" Life's joy and griefs we share with all. 
Life's calm or stormy weather ; 
But through all changes, oh : we live 
Most lovingly together — 
Most happily toj^ber. 


" In toil or ease, in weal or woe. 
Whether we rest or roam. 
Thus runs the burden of our song — 
This world is not our home. 
The world to cone's our home. 

" We know the tnilh, and hold ii fast. 
The Prince of Peace we know ; 
At his command we halt or inarch, 
And on together go- 
Right manfully we go. 

" His golden lamp illumes our path, 
Lights up Grief's darkest njghl. 
And guides us Co the promised land 
Of everlasting light — 
Pure, holy, heavenly light. 

" Fearing God much, we fear not man, 
But humbly bold, through grace, 
We dare defy our foes and look 
The boldest in the face- 
Even devils face to face. 

" Keeping this world beneath our feet 
And Heaven above our head. 
We climb the mountains till we cross 
Time's cold, bleak watershed 
And live where Death lies dead." 

God speed thee, friend ; may thousands j oil 
Thy noble band, though few, 

And may ten thousand wakened souls 
Cast in their lot with yoa — 
Ye chosen, blessed few. 

Walk wisely, walk in truth and love, 

From duty never swerve. 
Hut glorify the righteous Lord 

And Master whom we serve — 

With soul and body serve. 


Were tnith, Cod's truth, revered by me 

Oreveiy clime and tmlian. 
This deserl world would spring (o life 

A irorld-wide soul- creation. 
Then poor mortality would fiad 

A balm for all life's woea. 
Then sorrow's children would rejoice 

And blossom as the rose — 

Blossom as Sharon's rose. 

Pack off wi' your lingles, ye souter, gae wa'. 
What hae ye that's takin' aboot ye ava? 
Nae pence in your pouch, no a sark on your back. 
Your earthly estate wouldna bring you a plack. 
If e'er I tak' up wi' a dyvour like you. 
Right snka's my conceit o' mysel', man, I trow ; 
To tell you a truth, lad, I dauma weel hide. 
To keep me frae skaith I've a sma' grain o' pride. 
It's no the fool's pride that's made up o' vain vapours. 
That snuf& at poor folks, and wi' vanity capeis. 
But pride that says — " Lassie, tak' tent o' thysel'j 
The belter the browst, lass, the better the yilL" 
Sae gae your wa's hame, lad, I'U ne'er loot sae tai^. 
What t change wholesome bread for a morsel o' daigh ; 
Ye haud na youisel', man, how could ye hand me ? 
Hame, hame, then, for you and I ne'er will agree. 

What think ye o' chiels wba's conceit 

Would mend the affairs o' our nation. 
Without cither gumption or wit 

To govern themsel's wi' discretion ? 
Wha think that a' knowledge and sense 

Are wrapt up in flimsy newspapers, 
And grudge neither time nor eipense 

To (ill their vain noddles wi' vapours! 


Wha grumble, and envy the great. 

Reviling a' statesmen as jobbers, 
Wha envy [heir betters, and hate 

A' rulers uid curse them as robbeis ? 
Wha mak' the warkshop, wi' their din, 

A perfect political hot -house. 
And flee, when a sixpence they win. 

To wrangle and roar i' the pot-house? 
I think they should stick to their wark 

And baud them within their ain tethers, 
Nor rin, like lowse nowt in a park. 

Rowtin' a' kinds o' nonsense and blethers. 

Rise up, my bonnie bairns, the dawn 

Is breaking clear and fair, 
Long shadows cross the jewelled lawn. 

Sweet fragrance fills the air. 
The Voice that said "Let there l>c light," 

Commands the light to play 
On tower, and tree, and mountain height. 

To gild our holiday. 
Rise up, my bonnie bairns, put on 

Your brawest, best attire. 
The sun now mounts his golden throne. 

His car of living tire. 
He spins from gliltering fields and woods 

The orient, pearly dew. 
To weave a screen of siller clouds, 

A canopy for yon. 
Oh, we shall see things new and rare. 

By fountain, glen, and shaw '. 
And muse, while wand'ring here and there. 

On Him that made them a'. 
And ye shall sport, and sing, and dance, 

Along the flow'ry way. 
Like fairies in a wakin' trance. 

This glorious holiday. 


WILLIAM MOTHERWELL was bom in Glasgow on 
13th October, 1797, where his falher carried on the 
business of an ironmonger. Of a family of six, William 
was the third. His parents and family removed to Edin- 
burgh in the early part of this century, and in 1805 William 
became a pupil of Mr, William Lennie, a private teacher. 
In 1808 he was sent to the High School of Edinburgh, but 
was soon afterwards sent to his uncle, Mr. John Motherwell, 
Gauze Street, Paisley, whose business is thus described in 
the " Paisley Directory " of 1812 : — " Nailery, Silk Street ; 
foundry, head of Towing-path ; and ironmonger, Old 
Bridge." William was afterwards placed in the Paisley 
Grammar School, where he completed his school education, 
with the exception of attending the Latin and Greek classes 
in the University of Glasgow during the session of 1818-19. 
When fifteen years of age, he was placed as an apprentice in 
the Sheriff-Clerk's Office, Paisley, and from the ability and 
assiduity he displayed in discharging his duties, he was, at 
the age of twenty-one, raised to the important position ol 
Sheriff-Clerk Depute of Renfrewshire. 

From his boyhood he devoted his spare hours to reading 
and composition, of which he was very fond, and at an early 
age he showed great taste for poetry. In his fourteenth 
year he produced his first draft of "Jeanie Morrison." In 
1818 he was a contributor in verse to a small periodical 
work, published in Greenock, called " The Visitor." " The 
Harp of Renfrewshire," published in Paisley in 1819, was at 
first unfortunate in its conductors, and he became the third 
editor before the work nas completed, and wrote the intro- 


ductory essay or preface, along with maay interesting notes. 
In 1824, Mr. Motherwell published, under the nom deplume 
of " Isaac Brown, late manufacturer in the Flunkin of 
Paisley," " Refrewshire Characters and Scenery : a Poem of 
365 Cantos." But only one canto was published. This 
little publication supplies some most able and interesting 
information. In 1827 he published his " Minstrelsy, Aodent 
and Modern," a work of great excellence and investigation, 
which established his fame at once as an antiquary of high 
standing. In i8z8 he started the " Paisley Magazine," and 
edited it during the year it was continued. This volume 
contains many of his best poems and the result of his 
antiquarian researches. In 1828 he succeeded Mr, William 
Kennedy, the poet, as the editor of the Paisley Advertiser 
newspaper, where his first paper was published 24th May in 
that year, and his last 9th October, 1830, when he became 
the editor of the Glasgmv Courier. Mr. Motherwell had 
thus resided in Paisley for twenty-two years, and the in- 
habitants of Paisley, 1 think, are entitled to regard him as a 
citizen, and are proud of his great ability and intelligence, 
and they honour his memory accordingly. 

Mr. Motherwell had much to do with the periodical called 
" The Day," which commenced lo be published in Gla^ow 
in 1832, and many amusing papers from his pen appeared in 
several of its numbers. In 1832, Mr. Andrew Henderson, 
artist,^ collected and published a volume of Scottish pro- 

• Andrew Henderson was the son of Thomas Henderson, who was 
brought from lingland by Lord Chief Commissioner Adam (o l>e gar- 
dener at his seat of lllair Adam, near Kinross. Amircw wns bom (here 
in 1783. When at the ace of thirteen bis father had him bound as ap- 
prentice lo his brother Thomas, then (rardener to General .Scolt, of 
BcUcvue, Kdinbutgh. On the expiry frf Andrew's apprenticeship, he 
was di^t in the service of ihc Eart of Kinnoul at Duplin, and afterwards 
in the Earl of Hopetoun's );:trdcns. His constitution not being able lo 
stand the vicissitudes of the weather in out-doot labour, he went to his 
brother, Mr. Kubert Henderson, my father-in-law, residing, in Paisley, 


verbs. They were admirably arranged, and were un- 
doubtedly the best that had hitherto been published, and the 
elaborate preface to the work was written by Mr. Mother- 
well. Near the end of 1832 he collected his best poetical 
compositions into a volume, with the title of " Poems, Nar- 
rative and Critical." In 1835 he was conjoined with the 
" Ettrick Shepherd " in editing an edition of Burns, and he 
wrote the greater part of the bic^aphy. He was engaged 
in collecting materials for a " Life of Tannahill," when he 
was suddenly struck down by apoplexy, and he died after a 
few hours' illness, on ist November, 1835, in the thirty- 
eighth year of his age. His remains were interred in the 
Glasgow Necropolis, where an elegant monument, with a 
life-size bust by Fillans, has been erected to his memory. 

who obtained for him a sitimlion in a manufacluriiig iiousc, and ihere he 
remained till his employeri gave up business, about a year aftcrwaid-s. 
At this time his taiite for drawing, wliich hod alu.ays from his youth 
been great, began to develop strotigly, and he attended a drawinf; 
school. He obtained a. silualion as foreman in the respectable firm of 
Messrs. Hepburn & Watt, Paisley, with whom he remained aiiout live 
years. In March, 1809, Mr, llcnderhon went lu London to complete 
his education as an anisi, and there he studied at the Kuyal AcatJemy 
between three and four years, and maintained himself partly by the sale 
of some of his pieces, Init was mainly indebted to the generous liberality 
of his brother, Mr. Robert Henderson, I'daley. Mr. Henderson 
settled in Glasgow in 1S13, and bis talents as an artist were chiefly 
devoted (o portrait -pain ling, in whicli he acquired very considerable 
fame. His dcmcanuur was somewhat eccentric, but in the circle of his 
acquaintances he was much admired for his sturdy independence, intel- 
ligent originality, and great humour. In 1832 he published the tiest 
collection the nation possesses of Scottish provert>s, and his intiitiate 
friend, W. Motherwell, contributed the able and learned introduction to 
the work. His two most intimate friends — and three more genuine 
Scotsmen never lived —were J. U. Carrick and W. Motherwell, who, 
along with himself, were the ]irincipal contributors to the work called 
"The Laird of Logon," so well known for its humorous si ' 


I've wander'd east, I've wandet'd west. 

Through mony l weary way, 
Bui never, never can foi^ 

The luve o' life's young day I 
The fire that's blawn on Beltane e'en 

May weel be black gin Yule ; 
But blacker fa' iH-ails the heart 

Where first fond luve grows cule. 
O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, 

The ihochts o' bygone years 
Still iling their shadows owre my path. 

And blind my ecn wi' tears ; 
They blind my een wi' saut, saut tears, 

And sair and sick 1 pine, 
As memoiy idly summons up 

The hlythe blinks o' langsync. 
'Twas then «-e luvit ilk ilher weel, 

'Twas then we twa did part : 
tiweet time — and time 1 twa bairu^ at .set 

Twa bairns, and but ae heart ! 
'Twas then we sat on ac laigh bink. 

To leir ilk ither lear ; 
And tones, and looks, and smiles were st 

Remember'd evermnir. 

Morrison, afterwards Mrs. Murdoch, was daughter 
Morrison, brewer in Alloa. In the autumn of 1807, wnen in ner 
seventh year, she became a pupil of Mr. Lennie, anil for several months 
occupied the same class-room with young Motherwell. Of (he llame 
which she had cicited in the susceptible heart of her boy lover she was 
totally unconscious. Mr. Lennie, however, in a statement published by 
the editor of Motherwell's poems, refers to the strong impreuion which 
she made ou the young poet ; he describes her as "a pretty girl, and of 
good capacity." " Her hair," he adds, " was of a lightish brown, ap. 
proaching to fair ; her eyes were dark, and had a sweet and j;enlle ex- 
pression ; her temper was mild, and her manners unassuming." In 
1813, Miss Morrison became the wife of Mr. John Murdoch, commis- 
sion a^cnt in Glastjow, who dieil in 1829. She never met Ihepoel in 
after-life, and the ballad of " Jeanie Morrison " had been published for 
several years before she became aware that she was the heroine. 


I ironder, Jianic, af[<:n yet, 

What sitting on ihnt bink, 
Chc«k touchin' cheek, loof lock'd in loof, 

Whsl our wee bends could think. 
When baiih bent down owre ac btnid page, 

Wi' ae book on our knee, 
Thj lips were on Ihy lesson— bul 

My lesson was in thee. 

Oh, mind ye how we hung our heads, 

How cheeks brent red wl' shame, 
Whene'er the schulc-weans, laughin', said, 

We cleek'd thegilher hame ? 
And mind ye o' the Saturdays 

(The schute then skajtt at noon), 
When we ran aff to speel the braes — 

The bnxmiy braes o' June ? 

My head lins round and round about. 

My heart flows like a sea. 
As ane by ane the thoughts rush back 

O' scbule-time ajid o' thee. 
Oh, morain' life i oh, momin' luve ! 

Oh, lightsome days and lang, 
When hinnied hopes around our hearts 

Like simmer blossoms sprang ! 

Oh, mind ye, luve, how aft we left 

The deevin', dinsom' toun, 
To wander by the green bumsidc. 

And hear its waters croon ? 
The simmer leaves hung oivre our heads, 

Tlie flowers burst round our feet. 
And in the gloamin u' the wood 

The Ihrossil whusslil sweet ; 

The Ihroisil whusslit in the wood. 

The bum sang to the trees, 
And we, with Nature's heart in tunc, 

Concerted hanDonies ; 


And on the knowe abune [he bum 

For hours thegilher sal. 
In ihe silentaess o( joy, tiil baith 

Wi' very gladness grat. 

A]Wi aye, dear Jeanie Morrison, 

Tears trickled doon your cheek. 
Like dew-beads oa a rose, yet none 

Had ony power to speak [ 
That was n time, a blessed time, 

When hearts were fresh and young, 
When freely gush'd all feelings forth, 

Unsyliablcd — unsung ! 

I marvel, Jeanie Morrison, 

Gin I hae been to thee 
As closely twined wi' earliest thochts 

As ye hae been to me ! 
Oh ! tell me gin Iheir music fills 

Thine ear as it does mine } 
Oh 1 say gin e'er your heart grows grit 

Wi' dreamings o' langiiyne ? 

I've wander'd east, I've wander'd west, 

I've borne a weary lot ; 
But in my wanderings, far or near, 

Ve never were forgot. 
The fount that first burst frae this heart 

Still travels on its way, 
And channels deeper as it rins 

The luve o' life's young ilay. 

O, dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, 

Since we were sinder'd young, 
I've never seen your face, nor heard 

The music o' your tongue ; 
But I could hug all wretchedness. 

And bappy could I dee, 
Did I but ken your heart slilt dream *d 

O' bygane days and me ! 


Moumrully I oh, mournfully 

This midnight wind dolh sigh. 
Like some sweet plaintive melody 

Of ages long gone by : 
II speaks a Wte of other years— 

Of hopes thai bloomeil lo die — 
or sunny t^mites that set in tears, 

And loves that mouldering lie ! 
Mournfully '. oh, mournfully 

This midnight wind dolh moan ; 
It stirs some chord of memory 

In each dull heavy tone ; 
The voices of the much-loved dead 

Ssem floaling thereupon— 
All, all my fond heart cherished 

Ere death had made it lone. 
Moumfally ! oh, mournfully 

This midnight wind dolh swell, 
With its quaint pensive minstrelsy, 

Hope's passionate farewell 
To the dreamy joys of early years, 

Ere yet griet's canker fell 
On the heart's bloom — ay, well my ears 

Start at that parting knell I 


A ^teed '. a steed of matchless speed ! 
A sword of metal kcene I 

All else to noble heartes is dross- 
All oisc on earth is nieane. 

The neighynge of the war-horse prowdc, 
The rowleinge of the drum. 

The clangour of the trumpet lowde, 
Be soundes from heaven that come. 

And, oh ! the thundering press of knighls. 
When as their war-cryes swellc. 

May tole from heaven an angel bright. 
And rouse a fienJ from hell. 


Then mounte ! then mounte ! brave gallants all, 

And don your helmes amaine ; 
Death's couriers, fame and honour, call 

Us to the fielde againe. 
No shcwish tears shall fill our eye 

When the sword-hilt*s in our hand ; 
Heartc-whole we'll parte, and nowhit sye 

For the fayrest of the land. 
I^t piping swain and craven wight 

Thus wecpe and puling cryc ; 
Our business is like men to fight, 

And, like to heroes, die ! 


Oh ! is it thus we part, 

And thus we say farewell, 
As if in neither heart 

Affection e'er did dwell ? 
And is it thus we sunder, 

Without a sigh or tear, 
As if it were a wonder 

We e'er held other dear ? 

We part upon the spot, 

With cold and clouded brow. 
Where first it was our lot 

To breathe love's fondest vow ! 
The vow then both did tender 

Within this hallowed shade — 
That vow we now surrender. 

Heart-bankrupts both are made ! 

Thy hand is cold as mine. 

As lustreless thine eye ; 
Thy bosom gives no sign 

That it could ever sigh I 
From pride we both can borrow — 

To part we both may dare — 
But the heart-break of to-morrow 

Nor you nor I can bear ! 


DR. J(JH\ ^\yi, wliosc tlulicr was James Sim, cnL;incLT 
in the thread factory of James CarHle c^: Son, New Sneddon 
Street, Paisley, was born in Paisley on the 6th April, 1797. 
John, after becoming a good classical scholar in the 
Grammar School of his native town, went, in 18 14, to the 
University of Glasgow, and attended the classes in connec- 
tion with the medical profession. On 6th April, 1818, he 
received his diploma as a surgeon. He commenced the 
practice of medicine in the village of Auchenleck, Ayrshire ; 
but the business not amounting to his expectations he, after 
a few months, returned to Paisley. His professional success 
not coming up here either to what he wished, he resolved to 
go to the West Indies. He sailed from Greenock on 19th 
January, 181 9, for Trinidad ; but after residing in that island 
for about eight months, he died of a fatal disease, in the 
twenty-second year of his age. 

Dr. Sim was a young man of great intellectual promise, 
and was the first editor of " The Harp of Renfrewshire " of 
181 9. He began in early life to court the muse. His 
poetical pieces — which Dr. Rogers states " are remarkable 
for sweetness of expression, and are pervaded by a genial 
sentiment " — were never collected and published in a 
separate volume, but twenty of them are in ** The Harp of 
Renfrewshire" of 1819.^ 

* Hugh Sim, who died recently after having been upwards of forty 
years in the Town Chamberlain's Office, Paisley, and was so well 
known for his correct conduct and genial manners, was a brother of 
Dr. Sim. 



The storm sweeps wildly through the sky, 
And loud the angry waters roar, 

Our bark hath liv'd in tempest high. 
But such as this ne'er brav*d before 

Then warily, steadily, helmsman, steer. 

And we yet the headland cape may clear. 

Round the light'ning wings its flight, 
O'er our heads the thunders roll. 

But in the storm, as in the flght, 
No fear should shake the seaman's soul ; 

Then warily, steadily, helmsman, steer. 

And we yet the headland cape may clear. 

The storm is o'er, the sky serene, 
The destin'd port is now in view. 

Yet many a danger lurks unseen. 
Let each, then, to his post be true ; 

O warily, steadily, helmsman, steer. 

And soon our bark will the ofling clear. 

'Tis done — at length we safely moor. 
And transport Alls each seaman's breast 

To tread again the wish'd - for shore. 
And be by dearest friends carest ; 

Yet warily, steadily, sailor, steer. 

There's dangers still on shore to fear. 

^i>— "We'll meet beside the Dusky Glen." 

Nac mair we'll meet again, my love, by yon bumside, 
Nae mair we'll "wander through the grove, by yon bumside, 
Ne'er again the mavis' lay will we hail at close o' day. 
For we ne'er again will stray, doon by yon bumside. 

Yet mem'ry oft will fondly brood, on yon bumside. 

O'er haunts which we sae saft hae trod, by yon bumside, 

Still the walk wi' me thou'lt share, though thy foot can never mair 

Bend to earth the gowan fair, doon by yon bumside. 



X'uv far removed friini evorv cnic, Ivion ynn iMUDside, 
Tliou Mnoin'^l, my lovc, an .iiiL^el lair, Min.m yon luiriisii'.o, 
And if angels pity know sure the tear for me will flow, 
Who must linger here below, doon by yon burnside. 



Air — "Bonnie Lassie, O." 

Oh ! we aft hae met at e*en, bonnie Peggy, O ! 
On the banks of Cart sac green, bonnie Peggy, O ! 

Where the waters smoothly rin 

Far aneath the roarin' linn, 
Far frae busy strife and din, bonnie Peggie, O ! 

When the lately crimson west, bonnie Peggie, O ! 
In her darker robe was dress*d, bonnie Peggy, O ! 

And a sky of azure blue, 

Deck'd ydih. stars of golden hue, 
Rose majestic to the view, bonnie Peggy, O ! 

When the sound of flute or horn, bonnie Peggy, O ! 
On the gale of evening borne, bonnie Peggy, O ! 

We have heard in echoes die, 

While the wave that rippl'd by 
Sung a soft and sweet reply, bonnie Peggy, O ! 

Then how happy would we rove, bonnie Peggy, O ! 
WTiilst thou, blushing, own'd thy love, bonnie Peggy, O ! 

Whilst thy quickly throbbing breast 

To my beating heart I press'd, 
Ne'er was mortal half so blest, bonnie Peggy, O I 

Now, alas ! these scenes are o'er, bonnie Peggy, O ! 
We shall see them never more, bonnie Peggy, O ! 

Oh ! never again, I ween, 

Will we meet at summer e'en 
On the banks of Cart sae green, bonnie Peggy, O ! 

Yet had'st thou been true to me, bonnie Peggy, O ! 
As I still hae been to thee, bonnie Peggy, O ! 

Then with bosom, oh ! how light. 

Had I haird the coming night 
And yon evening star so bright, bonnie Peggy, O ! 


Air-"Yt Banlu and Bmi." 

&re thee weel, fair Cartha's side. 
For ever, ever fare thee weel ! 

Upon thy lianks I've oft enjoy'd 
What virtuous love alone can feel 

With Anna, as I fondly slray'd, 
And mark'd the gowan's bamely mien ; 

The vi'lel blue, the primrose gay, 
Enrich'd the joyful fairy scene. 

The sun had set, the western duuds 

Began lo lose their radiance bright, 
The mavis' tuneful note waii hush'd. 

And all proclaim'd approaching night. 
Then was the time I fondly pourM 

In Anna's ear my ardent tale ; 
She hlush'd, and oft I fondly thought 

That love like mine would soon prevail. 

She spoke, she look'd, as if she lov'd, 
Yet, ah ! huw false was Anna's heart ! 

Though heavenly-fair her angel form, 
How fraught with guile, how full of art ! 

Now far from Anna, far from home, 
liy Lugar's stream I sadly mourn ; 

1 think on scenes I still must love, 

On SI 

^s that n 

O fare thee weel, fair Cartha's banks, 

And Anna, O ! a Inng farewect ! 
Nor ever may that pang be thine 

Which my sad heart so oft doth feel ; 
Hut happy, happy may'st ihou I>c 

l)y fairy scenes on Cartha's side. 
And may a better far than me 

Through life be thy true love and guide. 


lOIIN GUl.Dli;, alilioiiu'li not n native of I'aiilcv. vet 
lived for a considerable time and died in Paisley. The son 
of a shipmaster, he was born at Ayr on 22nd December, 
1798. After receiving a good education at the Ayr 
Academy, he became, in his fifteenth year, assistant to a 
grocer in Paisley. He afterwards was assistant in a stone- 
ware and china shop in Glasgow; and in 182 1 he com- 
menced a similar business in Ayr on his oum account, but 
was unsuccessftil. From his youth upwards, he devoted 
himself to literature, and being well known as a contributor, 
both in prose and verse, to the newspapers, he became 
assistant editor to the Ayr Courier, and shortly afterwards 
obtained the whole literary management of that newspaper. 
In 182 1, he published a small volume of verses, and in the 
following year an enlarged second edition, duodecimo size, 
of 127 pages, entitled " Poems and Songs." 

Owing to a change in the proprietorship of the Courier, 
he lost the editorship. He then went to London in the 
hope of obtaining a situation in a newspaper office there, 
but, being unsuccessful, he started the London Scotsman, 
with the view of devoting it to Scottish affairs. After the 
third publication, it was given up, as he did not receive the 
support he expected. Paisley had hitherto been without a 
newspaper, and at this time a proposal was made by the 
leading inhabitants to start one. The project was met 
with every encouragement and support. Mr. Goldie was 
appointed the first editor, and the first number of the Paisley 
Advertiser was published on 9th October, 1824. He 
remained editor till his death on 27th February, 1826, in 


his twenty-eighth year. Under his vigorous and intelligent 
management, the newspaper proved very successful. As a 
poet, Mr. Goldie possessed in an eminent degree many of 
the requisite qualifications. 


I saw a stranger in a foreign land. 

From home, from friends, an<l happiness remov'd ! 
His days were joyless, for the heavy hand 

Of sickness was upon him ; those he lov'd 

Were distant far and by his sighs and tear^ unmov'd 1 
He had no friends but those hb gold could buy. 

And, oh ! how friendless is a friendship bought — 
Tis changefnl as the meteor in the sky, 

Cold as the dead that 'nealh the green turf rot, 

'Tis baseless as the moontieam — oh ! 'lis less than nought 
No weeping father watch'd his tied of death ! 

No tender mother dried the falling tear. 
Trembling lo hear his short convulsive breath ! 

No lov'd and loving sister did he bear. 

Telling, with heart ■ wrung sighs, she deem'd their parting near ! 
By strangers' hands his raylcss eyes were clos'd ! 

A stranger's land receiv'd his latest breath ! 
And when the yawning grave his corse enclos'd 

No stone was rais'd to mark his timeless death 

And tell who mould'ring lay in the cold earth beneath ! 


And can thy bosom bear the thought 

To pan Irae love an' me, kddie? 
Are all the plighted vows forgot 

Sac fondly pleilg'd by thee, laddie! 
Can'st thou forget the midnight hour, 
When in yon bonny birken l)ower. 
You vovv'd by every heavenly power 

Ne'er lo lo'e ane but me, laddie ? 


Witt thou, wilt thoa gang an' leave me, 
Win my heart on' tlius deceive me ? 
Oh '. thnl henrt will break, liotieie me, 

(Jill ye pari frac me, InclJie, 
Art hae ye pmis'd my rosy check, 

Aft piais'd my sparkling e'c, liuldic. 
Aft said nae bliss on earth ye'd seek 

But love an' life wi' me, laddie ; 
Bnt tooa those cheeks will lose their red. 
Those eyes in endless sleep be hid. 
And 'neath the turf the heart be laid 

TfaiLt beat for love an' thee, laddie. 
Will thou, wilt thou gang an' leave me, 
Win my heart an' thus deceive me? 
Oh 1 that hearl uill break, believe me, 

Cjq yc part frae me, Luldie, 

You'll meet a form mair sweel an' fair, 

Where rarer beauties shine, laddie. 
But, oh ! the heart can never bear 

A love mair true than mine, laddie ; 
Bnt when that heart is laid at rest- 
That heart that lo'ed thee last an' best — 
Oh 1 then the pangs that rend thy breast 

Will sharper be than mine, laddie. 
Broken vows will vex an' grieve me 
Till a broken heart relieve me, 
Yet ils latest thought, believe me, 
WiU he love's an' thine, laddie. 



Sweet's the dew-deck'd rose 
And lily fair to see, Annie, 
But there's ne'er a flower ihal blooms 

Is half so fair OS thee. Annie. 
Beside those blooming cheeks o' Ihinc 
The opening rose its beauliea tine, 
Thy lips the rubies far outshine. 
Love sparkles in thy e' 


The snaw thai decks yon monntajn top 
Nae purer is than thee, Annie, 

The haughly mien, the pridefu' look, 
Aie bani&h'd far firae thee, Annie ; 
And in thy sweet angelic face 
Triumphant beams each modest grace, 
" And ne'er did Grecian chisel tiace " 
A form sae bright as thine, Annie. 

Wha could behold thy rosy cheek 

And no feel Icrve's sharp pang, Annie? 
What heart could view thy smiling look 

And plot to do thee nrang, Annie? 
Thy name in ilka sang I'll weave, 
My heart, my soul, wi' ihee I'll leave. 
And never, till 1 cease 10 breathe, 
I'll cease (o think on thee, Annie. 


was bora in Edinburgh in 1798. His father, James A. 
Ramsay, was Accountant-General of the Excise in that city. 
Philip was apprenticed in 1812 to his brother-in-law, Mr. 
Peter Jack, writer in Paisley, and became a member of the 
Faculty of Procurators in Paisley on 4th January, 1S20. 
In that year he went into partnersliip with Allan Clark, 
writer, under the firm of Clark & Ramsay, which continued 
till the death of the former. Ramsay and Motherwell, who 
both possessed very considerable literary abilities and 
archffiological tastes, became intimate acquaintances. In 
1831 Mr, Rarasay went to Edinburgh and commenced 
business as a solicitor before the Supreme Court. Before 
Mr. Ramsay left Paisley a dinner was given to him in the 
Tontine Inn, on znd June in that year, by the members of 
the Faculty of Procurators. At no meeting of Faculty had 
the attendance of members been so numerous — ^a proof of 
the high respect in which he was lield by his brother prac- 
titioners. Mr. Muir, the Dean of Faculty,^ presided, 

always called, who was bom and brqd in 

to the Inle Mr. John Ureenshields, advocate. Mi. Muir was eucccs 
aiveiy in business in Kirkintilloch, Ulugiaw, and Neitston. Hedid not, 
however, remain long in the latter viUagc, but removed to Parsley, 
where he was admitled a member of the Faculty of Procurators in the 
year 1795. In iSzS, the late Mr. Francis Martin, who was Dean ol 
Faculty, died, and Mr. Moir was elected (o the honourable and dignified 
office a! his successor. Dean Muir had a fair aniount of legal practice, 
and at the election of a Pailiamentary representative for Paisley in 1832, 
under the Reform Act, he acted, along with Mr. Ilarr of Drum'i, as a 
leading agent for Sir John Maxwell. Mr. Muir was warmly attached 
to the Kstabllshcd Church of lieolland, but at the Disruption, in 1S43, 


and in proposing Mr. Ramsay's health referred, among 
other remarks, to his numerous excellent qualities, and 
said that his professional character had been uniformly 
distinguished by inflexible integrity, and that in his in- 
tercourse with his brethren his pleasant manners had 
endeared him to everyone. A periodical called " The Day" 
was started in Glasgow in 183 2, with Mr. Motherwell as editor, 
and supported by several able contributors. One of these 
was Mr. Ramsay, who supplied a dramatic piece entitled 
" Richelieu " (see p, 38 of that volume), which I give at the 
end of this memoir. On 31st October, 1835, when Ramsay 
and Motherwell were on a visit to a friend in Glasgow, 
the latter, becoming unwell, was accompanied home by Mr, 
Ramsay. On the following morning Motherwell had a 
severe attack of apoplexy, and died on the evening of that 
day. In 1 838, Mr. Ramsay published an edition of Tanna- 
hill's works, along with an excellent memoir of the gifted 
poet. Mr. Ramsay was on ictimate terms with Mr R. A, 
Smith, and it is very likely that it was through his acquaint- 
anceship, and the information he received from the latter, 
that this work was undertaken. In 1839, Mr. Ramsay pub- 
lished " Views in Renfrewshire, with Historical and Descrip- 
tive Notices.' This is a valuable historical work, scrupu- 
lously and ably prepared after much painstaking research, 
Mr. Ramsay, who was gentle and unostentatious in his 
manners, and was beloved by everyone who knew him, died 

he could not separate himself from hi? family, and along wilh them he 
joined tha Free Church. On Ijlh November, 1846, Dean Miiir was 
enlerlained in the Saracen's Head Inn at a jubilee dinner by ha 
brethren of the Faculty of I'rocuralors, lo celebmie the completion of 
his fifliclh year as a member of that IxKly. The dinner was numerously 
attended — SherifT Campbell acting as chairman, anil Mr. Robert Wylie 
as croupier. Uean Muir died on i8th January, 1848, in the seventy. 
third year of his age. He was a humane, kind-hearted, and sociable 
man, and a uorthy and lespcclable member of society. He was justly 
esteemed by his professional brethren and townsmen. 


at Edinburgh on 31st October, 1844, in the forty-sixth year 
of his age. 

Although the following sketch is prose in form, it will be 
acknowledged as breathing a poetic spirit. I need not 
apologise therefore for inserting it here : — 


[A-nw— A Cabinel in ihe Cardinal's Palace. Bnrilton, Ptesideni of the 
Parliament of Paris, and Councillors Scarion and Salo, (wo of the 
leading Members of Parliament, seated round a table. To them 
enters Cinq Mars, Master of the Horse.) 

Cinq Mars—lla. '. Sir President, Scarron, Saio. Good lime of the 
day, gentlemen. What make you with the Lord Cardinal? 

Bariil<m—\\e have been sent for hither, but we are at a loss to know 
upon what subject his Eminence means to consult us. 

Cinq — Indeed ! Can you form no conjeelure? 

BarUlon — None thai will itand the touch of reason ; your Lordship, 
however, I can well petceiie, cloth know. 

Cinq —Right. The King, 1 thank him, trusts myself and others of 
our party, whene'er the Cardinal most graciously pennits him to walk 
forth without his leading strings. Yesternight, Fits Majesty to us dis- 
burdened his soul. It seems the Cardinal, grown more proud and 
malapert than ever by his alliance with the Conde, means to wrench 
entirely from the Parliament the litlle jiowcr now left it— provided that 
he cannot Halter you and others out of it. 

Star. — He dare not ! Paris — no, nor France — would never suffer it. 

Bar. — You little know his Eminence, "Dare not " are words un- 
known to his vocabulary. 

Sato — Will you submit to have the only right now left us torn rudely 
from our graap ? I, at least, for one, shall never do so. No 1 While 
there flows a drop of blood within these veins to keep my heart in 
motion, I will oppose him. 

Cinq — Well said, good Salo. Be thou and all thy friends but firm, 
and thou shall see this base-bom villain, who, by nameless tricks, his 
wheedling and his cozening, has raised himself to be the king of our 
leal King, the tyrant over us, the freebom sons of I'r.tiice, quickly 
hurled down from his proud pinnacle. 

^ar.— But, my Lord 


Citig—Bul me ; no buts, Sir President. If you are now content to 
hug your chains and lick the hand thai beats you, so not am I. 

Sar. — Vou do me grievious wrong, my Lord. No man would more 
rejoice than I myself to iCc the Cardinal's downfall ; but how is it to be 
accomplished? We want everything— leaders, soldiers, money, and 

Cinq — Fair Sir, I cry your pardon, but if those be thy only wants and 

fears, know this 

[EHler Iht Cardinal from Mind an arrat. 
the Duke of Bouillon, the English Duke of Beaufort, and, hark in 
your ear, the Duke of Orleans and myself, have banded us together. 
Twenty thousand of the choicest troops in ihe Cardinal's pay have been 
won over to our cause. Spain promises forty thousand more. With 
Ihis, and abundance of good English angels, sure we may destroy the 
Cardinal, though even backed by Salhanas and his hosts. 

i'a/i'— But the King? 

Ci'ny— Tush 1 I know (he sentiments of His Majesty. Why, Sirs, 
he'd count that man bis choicest friend who'd tell him " Richelieu is 
dead. 'Twas Ihis hand dealt the blow." 

Xic/i. (aiiJe)—Tht villain speaks most true. His Majesty cares e'en 
too little for his Minister. As lit adrnncrs — tiy Lord and Gentle- 
men, 1 crave your pardon. It fears me that I must have detained yon 

Cinj — So long, your Eminence, that I was just about reluming to 
my service on the King. 

Hieli. — Thou wer't ever an aliealive seri'ont to His Majesty, my good 

Ci«y— Your Eminence had other matters for mine ear than courtly 
flatteries, or I mistake. 

FkA. — These civilities may have weight with others, though not with 
thee, who art of a more 

Cw/— l\haw ! 

Jlar.^Vye, my Lord Master ! Vou do not u,c the Car,linal-Duke 
with proper reverence. 

^'"■A.— Nay, think nut of it. I know the Master's temper is some- 
what ovcr-hasty and pcriinptoTy. But let that pass. We will at once 
to business. I've setil for you calmly to consult with me on things of 
moment to the King and to Ihe .State. Not ime of you, my worthy and 
much eslccme<l friends, will now dispute uith me on ihis, that, in 
affairs of governing and commanding, the fewer hands that power is 


imsted with the belter. To yaa. Lord Master, as a valiant and 
experienced conunonder, I appeal. A General issues orders; his second 
in command disputes, and then he disobeys them ; ihe soldieiy, seeing 
their commandos differ, also some take one side, some another ; the 
coDseqaence of which is plainly this, Ihat, when the leader goes upon 
an enterprise, he labours under disadvantages wbicli in all probability 
his opponent does not, and he r3.11s. 

Ci'ity— Vour Eminence is in the right. I have met with such grumb- 
ling, mutinous curs more frequently than I desired. 

JHci. — In like manner, in tbe management of a family — and to you. 
Sirs, Scarron and Salo, I now lay myself open to contradiction if in the 
wrong — think ye the sons and daughters, yea, the very servants, were 
laying claim to an equal right with the father to order and arrange, 
would thai boose, as tbe blessed Scripture hath it, abide? Your 

Sala — I agree ; though if your Eminence doth mean 

Xici.—fiay, hear me out. On precisely similar grounds, when the 
people, who are His Majesty's family — and sure he rules more by love 
paternal than by power paternal — cavil at and question, nay, disobey 
and treat his orders with contempt, there is an end to his authority. 
We are now verging to this crisis — that citizen will well deserve the 
favonr of his King who brings the disobedient family back lo duty. 

Scar, — By your Eminence's leave, you have taken pains to put the 
question between the King and his leal Parliament (for 'tis lo that, I 
see, your Eminence refers) in what I'm bound 10 call a light most Calse. 

JfirA.— How, Sir? (angrilyl. 

Ciitf — Nay, good Cardinal-Dukc ; Scarron, 1 be^eecb you. 

Scar. — Your Ejninence will note that I do not attempt to tax your 
argument with errors so long as the father di.iliurses the monies needful 
for his house's maintenance ; but when the children and servants con- 
tribute thereto, I say they have a right to know hole 'tis expended, and 
if not properly, to check the same in future. 

Ciitf — By St. Louis, and that is well argued ! 

JficA. — Am I lo understand, then, that you prefer to aU this foul, 
rebellious Parliament, instead of joining with your Monarch instantly to 
crush iL The power it claims, it only held by sufTerancc. I lis Majesty 
car, and shall, withdraw it instantly. 

5af.— The power is ours, and we shall surely now not part with it 
without a stru^le. 

A'li*.— What ! treason to my face '■ Insolent traitors, know you in 
whose presence you now stand ? 


Cinq — Yes ; in that of a man whom I shall ere long see wearing » lar 
less loftji title than that of Cardinal -Duke de Richelieu, First Minister 
of France. 

Rich. — To you, Sir, 1 have nothing more to say. Haste to your 
annies, if you can find them anywhere ; if not, (o the society of plotters 
and hired assassins whom you so kindly entertain. To you, Sirs, as 
more amenable Lo reason, 1 again apply. Are we friends ot foes? 

Salo — It fears me foes, unless a compromise quite honooiable to 

Star. — Compromise ! Not I, for one. 1 shall listen to no such 
terms — none, until the privileges of Ihe Parliament be confirmed, until 
the King be free, and till Cardinal Richelieu cease lo tyrannise o'er 

Mich. — Fools! fools! will you so madly rush upon deslruclion. 
What is your forces?— a handful ! Who your leaders?— r»sh, empty- 
pated braggarts! Where your English angelsp^safe in my money- 
cheat ! What hinders me from crushing you like a nesi of hornets? — 
your insignificance ! Why do I not dispatch you lo the dungeons of the 
Bastille now, even now ?— because I wish il said Ihal Richelieu " can 
afford to let such paltry traitors live !" Begone from my presence ere 
I spurn you ! 

Cing — ^When next we meet, prouil Cardinal, your speech shall be 
less lofty. 

Bar. — ('ardinal Kichclieii, be assured of this, that the Paris 

A'k^.— Pshaw! What care I for all I hy greasy burghers. Hence! 
begone 1 ere I do call a guard. \EimHl. 

Ha I ha ! ha ! Now will these madmen go and do some deed to damn 
their cause, and (hen I have Ihcm straighl in careful keeping. [Exit. 


JOHN DUNN, Writer, Paisley, was born at Barrhead 
OD 3ist January, 1798, and in early life went to the office of 
Messrs. J. & J, Wylie, the eminent firm of writers, No. 2 
lawn Street, Paisley. He remained there lill he commenced 
business on his own account in 1824. Mr, Dunn delighted 
in literature. The Rev. Charles Marshall, in 1823, then a 
manufacturer's pattern drawer, and Mr. Dunn, when there 
was no newspaper in Paisley, started a weekly periodical 
under the natne of the " Moral and Literary Observer." 
Each number consisted of iz pages, i2mo., and the price 
was three half-pence. The printer was S. Young, and the 
publisher John Mitchell, No. 28 Wellmeadow Street. The 
first number appeared on 15th February of that year. Down 
to the middle of March, the matter, both of prose and verse, 
was mostly from the pen of Marshall. Mr. Dunn's first 
article was in the publication of 22nd March, and the subject 
was " The Desire of appearing above our Condition." In 
that month, Mr. Marshall went to Edinburgh to prosecute 
his studies in the Edinburgh University, and Mr. Dunn 
(hereafter had to perform the principal literary duties of the 
editorship down to the 3rd May in that year, when the 
periodical ceased to be published. Mr. Dunn had only one 
piece of poetry in this publication, which appeared along 
with his article on " Dreaming." The following is an extract 
from it : — 


O that the luvely vi^iion which I saw not l>cen airy nothinj; ! for there Ctime 
One whom my fancy oft delights to draw 
In form and feature — one whose very name 


When breathed by olhere sends IhroughoW my frame 
The blood in brisker current, and arrests a richer tide 
Of crimson on the cheek. 
And makes il thus to .speak 
Of what my bashful craving cannot hide. 
She came ; and youth and beauty were my guests, 
For both in her were centred. Side by side 
We sat, and the sweet Maid 
Her head upon my bosom softly laid ; 
And ever and anon her lip I pressed, 
And laid my burning cbcek on hers 10 rest. 
While all those soft endearing things were said 
Which a chaste tongue might speak to lovely Maid. 
Mr. Dunn, in his long life in the profession which he 
adorned, filled many important positions, and look an active 
part in all public matters relating to the prosperity and good 
name of the town. He was the grand mover in ihe raising 
of funds for the erection of the marble bust, by Fillans, of 
Professor Wilson (Christopher North), which was placed in 
the Coffee-Room on 26ch August, 1848, 

Besides being a contributor to several of the periodicals 
of the day, Mr. Dunn also wrote a number of articles that 
appeared in the "Paisley Magazine," published in 1828, 
under the editorship of William Motherwell. He contributed 
in all seven articles, two of these being poetry. One of 
them, page 336, is as follows :^ 

R E M E M B K R T f I E E ! 
Remember thee ! Kcmcmin'r ihce ! 

Yes, till life's latest dro]i be drained ; 
Fortune may frown and Fricndshi]i lice. 

My heart to thine shnti still be chained. 
And jmrcst lhouj.bls 5h:iII have their bitlh 
Kor thee, the Iruc.M friend on eailh. 
When fir.l 1 saw thee, I but knew 

That thou wer't lovely ; and I dwelt 

On tones and looks which o'er me threw 

A charm. 'Twas Miss till then unfelt ; 

Time hatb brought wilh it many a token 
To prove lial chann can not be broken. 
For did I not in after years. 

When kindled hearts ihrew off reserve, 
Witneis those sorrows and those tears 

Which even the sternest might unnerve? 
The love which thus in tears was sown 
Is all or thee that I must own t 
Can I he soul • less ? Who would spum 

The fond, the trusting one away. 
And leave her helplessly to mourn 

In dark misfortune's evil day ? 
To know Ihee, and to love thee less, 
Would mock thy griefs, thy loveliness. 
And now, though thou can'st ne'er be mine. 

Though passion's youthful glow be chilled, 
I feel my heart as fondly thine 

As when with rapture lirsl it thiilled. 
Since such, my love, can I forget 
The faithful, the affectionate? 

Mr. Dunn died on 6th April, 1869, Throughout his life, 
he was a continuous purchaser of books of the best and 
rarest kinds. In March and April of the year following his 
death, these were sold by public roup in Glasgow, with the 
exception of a number of Paisley publications, which were 
sold publicly in Paisley. The sale in Glasgow extended 
over eleven days, and realised ^2689 17s. Those sold in 
Paisley brought ^90 4s. 9d., being in all ^£2780 is. gd. 
Mr. Dunn's library of books was the most extensive and 
valuable in Paisley. 

Mr. Dunn was very fond of the fascinating sport of river 
angling, and he and his brother, Mr, Thomas Dunn, S.S.C, 
Edinburgh, were members of " The Edinburgh Angling 
Club." This club was established in 1847, and for twenty 
years their first place of rendezvous was on the banks of the 
Tweed at Femielee, a few miles above Abbolsford. Their 


next home and fishing ground was higher up that river, near 
to Ashiestiel, long occupied by Sir Walter Scott. Anglers 
as a rule are famed for their kindly, social habits. After the 
close of the day's sports, they indulge in innocent conversa- 
tion, recounting their angling exploits, and in singing songs. 
The latter amusement led to some of the members of this 
club composing angling songs of their own to celebrate their 
amusements and to describe the river scenery they had 
witnessed. Mr. John Dunn composed many of these 
angling songs, and his brother also wrote a number of the 
same kind. In 1858, the songs so contributed were col- 
lected and printed for the private use of the members, and 
in 1879 another edition was printed, embracing those in the 
first volume. The songs amounted altogether to thirty-three, 
and of these eighteen were contributed by Mr. John Dunn, 
six by his brother, and nine by other members. They all 
possess much merit, and I give three of those composed by 
Mr. John Dunn. 


Oh '. where do Anfrlors hide their heads 

When snow Yiet, un the hi11^, 
When frost has cli»ed ihe river beda. 

And hushetl aic all the rills? 
Farewell the rod, Ihe reel, ihcflfT, 

Adieu ihc grassy plain, 
No Angling pleasures can Ihey quaff 
Till green leaves come again — 

Till green leaves come again. 

Till green leaves come again, 

No Angling pleasures can they quaff 

Till green leaves come again. 

Perhaps in Law's tempestuous Court 

'Mid streams of talk they stray. 
While silly clients are their sport 

Entiogled day by day ; 


I\t1),"ip> in ^onu' -K-. (;".'\ ii'.n'.. 

Tl'.eir ai"<l'iur ;1k-v iiiaint; in 
By telling o'er ihc ri>li ihcy'd hook 

Till green leaves come again — 

Till green leaves come again, &c. 

When they return then will the brooks 

With music fill the air, 
And fishing-rods, and lines, and hooks, 

Be busy everywhere. 
The salmon, to escape the lure, 

Will try his arts in vain. 
And every Angler fill his creel 

When green leaves come again — 

When green leaves come again, 
When green leaves come again. 
And every Angler fill his creel 
When green leaves come again. 


Life is like a running stream. 

Heigh ho ! 
Darkling now, and now a gleam. 
On its banks we sit and dream, 

Heigh ho ! 

Still the stream is running on, 

Heigh ho ! 
Soft o*er moss, now rough o'er stone, 
Mirthful now, and now a moan. 

Heigh ho ! 

Anglers all we're fishing there. 

Heigh ho ! 
Catching trifles light as air, 
Till death take us unaware. 

Heigh ho ! 




T"!.!!*— "The Maty Smuhiot" 
I iove the merry, merry Angler's life. 

He leads a life so guy. 
As by the brook he wanders, 

E^ch day is a holiday ; 
In all thai breathes around him. 

From bird, and flower, and tree, 
A heavenly beauty haunts him — 
Oh 1 the Angler's life Tor me ! 

The Angler's life, (he Angler's life. 

The Angler's life for me ; 
The Angler's life, the Angler's life. 
The Angler's life for me ! 

I love the merry, merry Angler's life. 

Afar from haunts of men, 
Where the only din 's the walerfall 

As it tumbles down the glen. 
And the only salutation 

Is the trout that leaps so free. 
As to kiss my fly it boundelh — 

Oh ! (he Angler's life for me ! 

The Angler's life, ihc Angler's life, & 

1 love the merry, merry Angler's life, 

When day has sunk to rest. 
And brothers of the Angle meet 
To show whose creel is best. 
Oh ! then what merry tales <fe tell, 

What pleasant songs we sing ! 

And the ready laugh and chonn 

Make roof and rafters ring. 

The Angler's life, the Angler's life, 

The Angler's life for me ; 
The Angler's life, the Angler's life, 
The Angler's life for me I 


WILLIAM KENNEDY was a nalive of the north of 
Ireland, and was bom on 26th December, 1799. He was 
the second editor of the Paisley Advertiser newspaper, 
succeeding James Goldie. The first number of that news- 
paper which he conducted was published on J5th March, 
1826, and the last on i7lh May, 1828, He published, 
before he was twenty-five years of age, a prose story, 
entitled "My Early Days." \VhiIe conducting the Paisley 
Advertiser, he published, in 1827, a volume of poems of 191 
pages, entitled " Fitful Fancies." Mr. Kennedy's successor 
in the editorship of this newspaper was Mr. Motherwell. In 
1830, Mr. Kennedy published in London a volume dedi- 
cated to Motherwell, under the name of "The Arrow and 
the Rose, and other Poems." Having taken up his residence 
in London, he,along with Mr. Leitch Ritchie, edited a monthly 
magazine issued by Hurst & Chance, and at the same time 
contributed many articles in prose and verse to other 

When the Earl of Durham went to Canada, Kennedy 
accompanied his Lordship as his private secretary. Ken- 
nedy on returning to England received the appointment of 
British Consul at Galveston, Texas, where he remained for 
many years. Before going there he visited Motherwell in 
Scotland, and then wrote the stanzas commencing " I love 
the land," which appear at the end of this brief memoir of 
the poet. 

In 1841, Kennedy published in London the "Rise, Pro- 
gress, and Prospects of the Republic of Texas," in two vols- 
8vo. On returning to England in 1847, he first went to 
Scotland, and, after visiting Motherwell's grave in the 


Necropolis of Glasgow, he wrote those verses which are 
subjoined. Kennedy retired with a pension in 1847, ^^^ 
died at his residence, in the neighbourhood of London, 
in 1849. 


I love the land ! 
I see its mountains hoary, 

On which Time vainly lays his iron hand ; 
I see the valleys rolled in sylvan glory, 

And many a lake with lone, romantic strand. 
And streams and towers, by immortal story 

Ordained heart -stirring monuments to stand ; 
Yet tower, stream, lake, or valley could not move me, 
Nor the star- wooing mountain, thus to love thee. 

Old, honour'd land ! 

I love the land ! 
I hear of distant ages, 

A voice proclaiming that it still was free ; 
That, from the hills where winter wildest rages, 

Swept forth the rushing winds of Liberty ; 
That, blazoned brightly on the noblest pages 

E'er stamped by Fame, its children's deeds shall be. 
Oh ! poor pretender to a poet's feeling 
Were he who heard such voice in vain appealing ; 

I love the land ! 

I love the land ! 
My fathers lived and died there ; 

But not for that the homage of their son ; 
I found the spirit in its native pride there — 

Unfettered thoughts — right actions boldly done ; 
I also found (the memory shall preside here, 

Throned in this breast, till life's tide cease to run). 
Affection tried and true from men high-hearted. 
Once more, as when from those kind friends I parted, 

God bless the land ! 


tVritien a/ler a ViiU to Iki Crave of my f,i/nd, WUIiam Molhrrmtil, 
November, 184J. 

Place we a stone at his head anil his feel. 
Sprinkle his sward with the small flowers sweet, 
Pioosly hallow ihe poet's reUeat ; 

Ever approvingly. 

Ever most lovingly, 
Tnmed he to Nature, a worshipper meet. 

Hann not the thorn which grows at his head ; 
Odorous honours its blossoms will shed, 
GiateAil lo him, early summoned, who sped 

Hence, not unwillingly — 

For he fell (hrillingly— 
To rest his poor heart 'mong the low-lying dead. 

Dearer to hira than the deep minster bell, 
V/inds of sad cadence, at midnight, will swell. 
Vocal with sorrows he knowelh too well, 

Who, for the early day. 

Plaining Ibis roundelay. 
Might his own fate from a brother's foretell. 

Worldly ones treading this terrace of graves, 
Grudge not the minstrel the little he craves, 
When o'er Ihe snow-mound the winter blast raves. 

Tears — which devotedly. 

Though all unnoiedly, 
Flow from their spring in the soul's silenl caves. 

Dreamers of noble thoughts, raise him a shrine. 
Graced with the beauty which lives in his line ; 
Slrew with pale flow'rcts, when pensive moons shine, 

His grassy covering. 

When spirits, hovering. 
Chant for his requiem music divine. 


Not as a record he Ucketh a stone ! 

Pay a light debl to the singer we've known — 

Proof thai our love for his name hath not flon 
With the frame perishing. 
Thai we are chcrishipg 

Feelings akin lo ihc lost poei's own. 

My boat's by the tower, my bark's in the bay. 
And both must be gone ere the dawn of the day 
The moon's in her sbrouii, but to guide tbee a&r 
On (he deck of Ihe Daring's a love-lighted star ; 
Then wake, lady ! wate ! I am waiting for thee, 
And this night or never my bride thou shalt be. 
Forgive my rough mood, unaccustomed lo sue, 
I woo not, perchance, as your land lovers woo j 
Mj voice has been luned to the notes of the gun. 
That startle the deep when the combat's b^un ; 
And heavy and hard is the gra^p of a hand 
\Vhose glove has been ever the guard of a brand. 
Yet think not of these, but this moment be mine. 
And ihe plume of the proudest shall cower to thine, 
A hundred shall serve thee, the best of the brave. 
And the chief of a thousanil will kneel as thy slave ; 
Thou shalt rule as a queen, and thy empire shall last 
Till the red flag, by inches, is torn from Ibe masl. 
O ! islands (here arc on the face of Ihe deep 
Where the leaves never fade, where the skies never weep. 
And there, if thou will, shall our love-bower be. 
When we quit, for the greenwood, our home on the sea ; 
And there shalt thou sing of the deeds that were done 
When we braved the 1:Lst blast and Ihe last battle won. 
Then haste, lady ! haste ! for the lair breezes blow. 
As my ocean-bird poises her pinions of snow ; 
Now fast to the lattice these silken ropes twine. 
They are meet for such feel and such fingern as thine ; 
The signal, my mates — ho I hurra for the sea ! 
This nighl and for ever my bride thoo shalt be. 


THOMAS RIBBLE HERVEY was bom in Paisley in 
1799, aid w^ taken by his father to Manchester in 1802 or 
1803, where he commenced business as a merchant 
Hervey was first educated at a private school, and after- 
wards at the Manchester Free Grammar School After 
leaving school, he was articled to a firm of solicitors in 
Manchester. Some time aflerwa/ds he went to London, to the 
agents of that firm there, to learn their branch of practice. 
From thence he went to be with Mr. (afterwards Sergeant) 
Scriven, to study conveyancing. This gentleman was so 
struck with his great abilities that he ut^ed his father to 
allow him to study for the bar. To this his father consented, 
and he was sent to Cambridge and entered Trinity College. 
At the end of the second year, he published his poem en- 
titled "Australia," and went in 1820 to London. This 
poem and others were so favourably received Ihat he 
resolved to devote himself to literature, and did not return 
to Cambridge. Many charming lyrics by Hervey were 
published from time to time in the " Amulet " and " Friend- 
ship's Offering," and of the latter he was editor for one year. 
In 1829, he published a third edition of the "Australia" 
and a series of minor poems, under Ihe title of " The 
Poetical Sketch Book." For upwards of twenty years prior 
to 1854, Mr. Hervey had been an extensive contributor of 
critical essays to the "AthenEeum," and for the last eight 
years of that period he was its sole responsible editor. He 
was the means of raising that publication to the high position 
it fills among the periodicals of the country. Mr. Hervey, 
at the close of 1853, suffered severely from asthma, and had 


to give up the editorship of the " Athenaeum." After his 
health was restored, he became a contributor for upwards of 
four years to the "Art Journal." His death took place on 
the 17th February, 1859, in his sixtieth year. In r866, a 
volume of 437 pages duodecimo, of the "Poems of Thomas 
Ribble Hervey," edited by Mrs. T. K. Hervey, was pub- 


Morn on the waters '. and purple and bright 

Bursts on the billows the flushing of light ! 

O'er the glad waves, like a child of the sun, 

See the tall vessel goes gallantly on ; 

Full to the breeie she unbosoms het sail. 

And her pennant streams onward, like hope in the gale I 

The winds come around het, in murmut and song. 

And the surges rejoice as they bear her along I 

Upward she points 10 the golden-edged clouds, 

And the sailor sings gaily, aloft in the shrouds ! 

Onward she glides, amid ripple and spray, 

Over the waters — away, and away '. 

Bright as the visions of youth ere ihey part. 

Passing away, like a dream of the heart ! — 

Who — as the beautiful pageant sweeps by. 

Music around her, and sunshine on high — 

Pauses to think, amid glitter and glow, 

O, lhi:re be hearts that are breaking below 7 

Nighl on the waves ! and the moon is on high. 
Hung, like a gem, on the brow of the sky ; 
Troading its depths, in the power of her might. 
And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to light ! 
Look lo the H"aters ! — asleep on their breast, 
Seems not the ship like an island of rest } 
Bright and alone on the shadowy main. 
Like a heart -cherished home on some desobte plain I 
Who — as she smiles in the silvery light. 
Spreading her wings on the bosom of night 
Alone on the deep — as the moon in Ibe sky 
A phantom of beauty I — could deem with a sigh 


That so lovel]' a thing u the mansion of sin. 
And souls thai are smitten lie bursting within? 
Who — as he watches her silently gliding — 
Remembers that wave after wave is dividing 
Bosoms that sorrow and guilt could not sever, 
Hearts that are parted and broken for ever ? 
Or deems that he watches, afloat on the wave. 
The death-bed of hope, or the young spirit's grave? 

Tis thus with our life, while it passes along. 

Like a vessel a1 sea, amid sunshine and song 1 

Gaily we glide in the gaie of the world, 

With streamers afloat, and with canvas unfurled. 

All gladness and glory lo wondering eyes, 

Vet chartered by sorrow, and freighted with sighs ! 

Fading and false is the aspect it wears. 

As the smiles we put on — just to cover our tears ; 

And the withering thoughts, which the world cannot kt 

Like heart-broken exiles, lie burning below ; 

While the vessel drives on to that desolate shore 

Where the dreams of our childhood are vanisbed artd o' 


On a Croup of Htath and Harriilli. 

My native climes ! along thy shore 
The clansman's song is heard no rnore ; 
No more the pibroch gbds the gale, 
Nor wandering harper checn> the vale ; 
No more do warriors' visioned forms 
Ride forth, upon the " hill of storms "; 
No chieftain raises lo the sky 
The gladness of his battle-cry ; 
Nor minstrel's lofty numbers swell 
Above the brave, who fought— and fell 1 
Unmarked, the grey stone rears its head 
Above each hero's mountain bed ; 
Unheard by all, the thistles sigh. 
As the lone spirit wanders by ; 


Hmhed is the music of thy d«Ils, 
And silent now the feast of shells ; 
And, like a thought, has passed away 
The magic of thine early day I 
Vel there, like hearts that love thee still. 
The heather hangs upon each hill. 
And blooms along thy hardy braes 
As brightly as in better days. 
Like valor, rears its purple crest 
Above thy lorn and widowed breast ; — 
And there, like beauty's glances seen. 
The blue-eyed harebell springs between !- 
Stilt faithful, 'mid the vrrecks of Time, 
Twin children of my native cliroe ! 

That song again ! — its wailing strain 

Brings back the thoughts of other hours, — 
The forms I ne'er may see again, — 

And brightens allhfe's faded flowers. 

Remembered echoes seem to roll, 
And sounds I nevermore can hear 

Make music in my lonely soul. 
That swell again 1— now full and high 

The tide of feeling flows along, 
And many a thought that claims a sigh 

Seems mingling with thy magic song. 
The forms I loved— and loved in vain. 

The hopes I nursed— to see them die. 
With fleeting brightness, through my brain. 

In phantom beauty, wander by. 
Then touch the lyre, my own dear love ! — 

My soul is like a troubled sea, 
And turns from all beluw— above. 

In fondness, lo Ihc harp and Ihce. 


ALEXANDER M'GILVRAY was bom in Paisley jth 
June, 1800. Mr. M'Gilvray carried on the business of a 
baker in Paisley. He took an active part in local politics, 
both before and after the passing of the Parliamentary and 
Buigh Reform Bills. For several years he was a member of 
the Paisley Town Council. He removed before the middle 
of this century to Glasgow, and died there on ist August, 
1871. In early life, while serving his apprenticeship to the 
baking trade, he commenced to be a rhymster, and during 
the election periods sent out many of his squibs. In 1840, 
he published " The Town's House on the Market Day, a 
poem in two cantos," of 34 pages, the brochure being an 
attempt to describe the characters of some of the gentlemen 
who attended the public refreshment room in the Saracen's 
Head Inn ; but much of it was very personal and indelicate. 
In 1850, he published a volume of 270 pages, under the 
title of " Poems and Songs, Satirical and Descriptive, 
Bearing on the Political, Moral, and Religious Character of 
Man in this country at the Present Day"; and in 1862 
another edition, enlarged, was published, on the title page 
of which he describes himself as " Alex. M'Gilvray, Baker, 
late of Paisley, now residing in Glasgow." In some of his 
squibs he styled himself " the Rhyming Baker." Mr. 
M'Gilvray's early poems were composed in a good-humoured 
egotistic style, and were free from the scurrilous personalities 
which pervaded those of a later day, I give an extract 
from one of the earlier poems, under the heading of 

Upon the eighteen hundredth year, 
When corn was scarce, and meal was dear, 
About the middle of the dearth 
Paisley was honoured by my birth. 


Thb great event look place at noon. 
In Prussia Street, the fifth of Jane ; 
Thus, on a question of great ireighl. 
At once I put my readers right, 
And likely some disputes may save 
When I lie mould'ring in my grave. 

As seven cities, famed for worth. 
Contended for great Homer's birth, 
So I'm resolved lo leave no mystery. 
Connected Mith my private history 
Or hanging o'er my public life, 
That may engender future strife. 

Ere I was swaddled in a sart, 

The midwife made this sage remark — 

" Losh ! feel these bumps upon his head — 

He'll be a wondrous roan indeed,— 

He'll be a wit, these plainly shew it ; 

I'll lay my life he'll be a poet 1 " 

This, deemed as nonsense, never drew 

Attention, till it turned out true. 

This poetical piece concludes thus^— 

That alt my readers will peruse 

The bright effusions of my muse, 

And study ihem, recite and quote them, 

With the same pleasure I have wrote them, 

Is the fond hope, and aye will be, 

Of their immortal author — me. 



Let Nature's face be sad or gay. 
In musing mood I love to stray 
\Vhcrc I, unknowing care or crime, 
Of youth's sweet morning spent the prime. 


I passed my early, guiltless days 
Where Espedair meand'ring strays, 
And where the plantin' crawns the hill 
That rises o'er the Blacklaw Mill. 

My old companions now are gone ; 
I wander o'er the fields alone ; 
Alas I I know not where they be, 
Or if they slill remember me. 
With not a care to cloud the brow. 
We gambol'd o'er the broomy knowe, 
Howjoyously weranatwill 
Among the fields of Blactlaw Mill '. 

The harmless cattle are no more 
I tended there in days of yoie ; — 
Since I beheld them grazing last 
How many changeful years have past ! 
Hawkie no more the gale can leap 
When, tired u'ith play, 1 used to sleep ; 
Nor Crummie's heavy lowing fill 
The silent vale of Blacklaw Mill. 

Though now the stones are lying loose 
That once composed my little house. 
The hawthorn gone whose bushy form 
Oft sereen'd me from the heat and storm 
Yet still unchanged Rows on the bum. 
That us'd my little mill to lum. 
And, as of old, it marmurs still 
Beneath the biae at Blacklaw Mill. 

I often pause beside the pool 
Wherein my limbs I used to cool — 
That oft my little vessel bore— 
And think on day^ that are no more. 
There every thing to me is dear, 
The flowers I sec, the birds I hear ; 
The very breeze, though cold and chill. 
Is dear to me at Blacklaw Mill ! 


Bat yet, with a r^ardless eye 
May others view, when passing by, 
The woods and streams so sweet to nu 
The fields endeared to memory. 
Though I have seen them o'er and o'e 
'Tis but to love them more and more 
And, till my bosom cease lo thrill, 
111 love to muse o'er Blacklaw MiU. 


T-BW— ■'■nleTIa»tll«■lRMunl.■■ 
! dinna think, though we, guidwife. 

May sometimes disagree, 
Though twice ten years we ha'e been wed, 

Thou'rt not as dear to me, — 
As dear to me as e'er thou wert 

When, handsome, young, and gay, 
Our hearts and hands we fondly joined 

Upon our bridal day. 
What though the beauties of thj face 

And form b^n to fail. 
What though ihe bloom forsakes thy cheeks, 

Thy rosy lips grow pale ? 
And what although thy dark blue eyes 

No more like diamanils shine. 
Thy once unrivall'd shape and air 

Appear no more divine ? 
The charms that first secur'd my heart 

In Ihce remain the same. 
An' fan wiihin my bosom still 

A never-dying flame. 
Vou still possess a pleasant look, 

A calm, un milled mind, 
A soothing voice, a bithfut heart — 

Complaisant, warm, and kind. 
Thy con.stant cure has ever been 

To smooth life's rugged way, 
With happy smiles to brighten up 

The diwkcsl, dreariest day. 


'When care or sickness wrung my heart, 

Ad' Toond me fortune lower'd, 
Into my tbriUing bosom stitl 

The healing balm ye pour'd. 
Round ey'ry tale to me you've told, 

And ev'ry song you've sung, 
And ev'ry spot where we have been, 

A hallow'd charm is flung. 
How dear to me the broomy knowes, 

The greenwood's fragrant shade. 
The iloVry fields, the verdanl banks, 

And braes where we have stray'd 1 
Oh ! many a pleasant hour we've past. 

And happy day we've seen 1 
Could we but live to see oui bau^s 

As bless'd as we have tieen, 
Content we'll leave this earthly scene, 

And bow to heaven's decree. 
In hopes we all shall meet again. 

And btest for ever be. 



Illustrious Bums .' thy likeness claims a place 

The most conspicuous in my humble halt. 
For well deserves Ihy manly fonn and face 

A place with princes on a palace wall. 
In bold relief the painter has defined 

Thy likeness, here to life in every part ; 
As for the image of thy lofty mind, 

'Tis by thyself engrav'd on every heart. 
Sectarians long endcavour'd to defame 

Thy verse immortal and thy moral worth, 
Till an admiring world with one acclaim 

Did homage to the day that gave thee biith. 
O'er cold neglect, that froze ihy noble soul. 

And her ingratitude now Scotia mourns, 
And well they may ; for centuries round may roll 

Ere she again produce another Bums. 



ALEXANDER BROWN, author of " Poems, Secular 
and Sacred," published by J. & J. Cook, Paisley, in 1872, 
was bora on 21st March, 1 801, at the village of Buragrange, 
now known by the name of " Almond Bank," Perthshire. 
Although born of humble parentage, his forefathers were at 
one time the owners of an extensive estate on the Ochil 
Hills, which was confiscated in the days of the Stuart 
persecution, in consequence of Brown's great great grandfather 
allowing the Covenanters to preach in his bam. 

The author completed his apprenticeship as a calico 
printer at Ruthven Printworks in 1822. He afterwards 
removed to the Fereneze Printworks, Barrhead, where he 
remained for twelve years. He married there, and became 
an elder in the Secession Church. In 1834, he went to the 
Colinslee Printworks, Paisley, filling the position of foreman 
for many years, and did not leave till the firm was dissolved. 
He wrought at block printing in the same workshop with 
Hugh Macdonald, so favourably known as a poet and 
describer of rural scenery. Mr. Brown was inducted as an 
elder in the Secession Church, George Street, Paisley ; but, 
being of a retiring disposition, he took little interest in 
public affairs. As he advanced in years he became very 
frail, and was confined to his bed for some time before his 
death. He died at No. 28 Glen Street, on loth March, 

From his youth he had a strong desire to write poetry, 
but did not encourage the muse, as he thought that, among 
so many good poets, he would not be able to pen anything 
that would become notable. His only youthful effort which 
has been preserved appears in his volume of poems at page 



58, and is addressed to a young friend. All his other poems 
were composed after 1845. He was of a very pious dis- 
position, and his book of poems — extending to 192 pages — 
is divided into 54 secular pieces and 97 sacred pieces, and 
many of them possess considerable merit. Of the former 
class, I give the 


( Which joins the Tay near Perth.) 

Hail, native stream ! thy rich attire 
Invites the lovers' gentle tread ; 

Both youthful son ajid aged sire 
Find pastime by thy pebbled bed. 

How peaceful is thy onward flow ! 

How sweet and mild thy scented air ! 
Here mourning hearts may cheery grow, 

And for a while forget their care. 

Oft have I joined the youthful group, 
To frolic on thy wooded banks ; 

Our hearts the while beat high with hope — 
But oh ! how wasted are our ranks ! 

How few remain with me to gaze, 
With thrilling interest to recall 

The pleasure which in early days 
Thy music on our ears let fall ! 

Long by the margin of thy stream 
Barossa's hero fondly strayed ; ^ 

Though dead, he lives in our esteem, 
And memory lingers where he*s laid. 

Here Bessie Bell, so blythe and gay, 
Enjoyed thy cool, refreshing shade ; 

And here the sweet-eyed Mary Gray 
Upon thy beauty fondly fed. 

^ Lord Lynedoch. 


'Twas here they built their bowet so giy — 

But ah 1 it proved a vain letreal ; 
The sweeping plague no hand could staj — 
A lover also shared their fate. 

Of the sacred pieces, we give the following spedmeD ; — 
The sound of praise rose on the evening air. 
And warm devotion marked his opening prayer. 
With yearning heart he looked upon [he young, 
With words of comfort dropping from ]us tongue ; 
And there were eais thai caught the pleasing strain, 
And hearts absorbed in their eternal gain. 
Solemn and slow he nexl the old addressed. 
Whose faces told of hearts that were impressed. 
He drew his arrows from the sacred book. 
And high and holy was the aim he look ; 
The Gospel bow in conscious weakness drew, 
Sought strength divine to pierce the harness through. 
He spoke with feeling of God's trysling place. 
And urged on sinners there lo seek his face ; 
Counsel and warning to the heart addressed — 
Upon his own were deeply first impressed — 
And thus from heart to heart were counsels given. 
In words distilling like the dews of heaven. 

Well done, good woman ; though thy frame is old, 
Thy heart's still young, ihy Muse still strong and bold. 
Of thy loved country, of ils scenes and clime, 
Thou writ'st with vigour, as if in ihy prime ; 
Its present greatness and ils future good 
Lie near thy heart ; o'er ihesL- thou lov'sl to brood. 
1 love thy verses and enjoy thy prose. 
And feel, in reading, as we sat jocose ; 
While to those scenes thou warblest forth Ihy song. 
By ihy sweet strains I feel I'm borne along ; 
Thy heart, so loving, would its power employ 
To give at least the reader half ihe joy. 
PjUSLCt, lit /aiasty, i3jr. 

J. R. ADAM. 

J. R. ADAM, son of John Adam, bleacher, Colinslee, 
Paisley, was bora at that place shortly after the commence- 
ment of the present century. Afler leaving school, he 
wished to join the army ; but, being an only son, his father 
objected to this proposal, and some time afterwards he 
became a partner of the firm in the bleaching works which 
went under the name of John Adam & Son, Before the 
new firm had been a year in business, the future poet 
thought it was getting into difficulties, and he resolved to go 
to America to avoid such an occurrence as bankruptcy. 
There being no vessel at Greenock by which he could saH 
to America at that time, he went to Belfast, where he was 
equally disappointed. After wandering about in Ireland for 
several weeks, he ran short of money, and ultimately 
enlisted with a party of the 95th Regiment, who were 
ordered to Guernsey. Some years afterwards, he returned 
with the regiment to Ireland. They landed at Cork, and 
then proceeded to Belfast, where he married. Having been 
granted a furlough to see his relations in Paisley, his mother 
and sisters advised him to apply for his discharge, and on 
returning to his regiment this was obtained by payment of 
the regulation sum of ^^20. He then left the army alto- 
gether, after having been in it for nearly seven years. 

His father's affairs had, as he anticipated, ended in bank- 
ruptcy. He says — "A melancholy train of thought was 
naturally induced ; and the death of my little son about the 
same time caused a considerable increase in this depression 
of spirits, while the subsequent improper conduct of my 
wife drove me to distraction, until, in a state of frenzy, I 
was conveyed to the Glasgow Royal Lunatic Asylum." By 
the good and humane treatment he received in the asylum 


he was cured, but he remained in the institution for a con- 
siderable time afterwards as a voluntary inmate. The 
future poet must have shown some taste for letterpress 
printing, for the physician furnished him and another boarder 
with a fount of types and a small press, which enabled them 
to commence a weekly periodica! in Gartnavel Asylum. 
Mr. Adam's department chiefly lay in providing for the 
" Poet's Comer." After leaving the asylum, he collected 
his poetical pieces, and, along with some notes of his life, 
published them in 1845, under the title of "The Gartnavel 

As already stated, he was an only son, but he had some 
very pretty sisters, whom I used to see going to and return- 
ing from school. 

Two of his effusions, now given, may be taken as speci- 
mens of his poetry. 

Comfoied on Ikt moming oj Burns's Ftslifal. 
Awa^e, my muse '. what shall I say 
The mom of ihis soul-slirring day. 
When thousands thus due homage pay. 

Each it) their lums ; 
The hero, sage ; the lovely, gay — 

To Poet Bums ? 
Haste ! 10 the bonnie banks repair, 
For still Ihey bloom " sae fresh and fair," 
The bard that sang ' ' sae fu' o' care " 

Nae mair returns ; 
But gallant sons and daughters share 

The name of Bums. 
Posthumous fame crowns but that name, 
Kepentanl Scotia bears the blame ; 
Too late she feels the generous flame ! 

J. R. ADAM. 

The Cattle <>' Mnnlc^omcry^ ]"\'\ 
l'rc->i'lc> nl yoiKlcr k•-^ti\■c liM.nil ; 
His wide domains those streams alToid, 

In wimpling turns, 
Where ** Highland Mary " lived adored 

By Robert Bums. 

Does thy bright spirit space career ? 

Shade of the Poet, linger here, 

0*er scenes thou once didst hold so dear- 
See ! Scotia spurns 

Ingratitude, and sheds a tear 
Still o'er her Bums. 



(Composed expressly for the Play of " Guy Mannering^'* as produced at 
the Theatre, Glasgow Royal Lunatic Asylum.) 

I come from the wars. 

All cover'd with scars. 
And my name it is Sergeant M*Craw, man ; 

The sword I now wear 

All my dangers did share. 
And its edge ne'er discovered a flaw, man. 

In the battle's fell strife 

It has guarded my life 
From the sword of the foeman impending ; 

And while strength's in this arm. 

It will guard me from harm — 
My king and my country defending. 

With many a deep wound 

It has fell'd to the ground. 
And with int'rest retumed ev'ry blow, man ; 

'Tis ready again 

All its brightness to stain 
In the blood of the proud, saucy foe, man. 



In thy scabbaid now rest. 
Bright titaie o( Ihe best. 

Till war's rude alarms make us draw, nun. 

Thy keen edge to light, 

'Midst the thickest of fight. 
When wielded by Sergeant M'Craw, min. 


! Light Bolw, can I e'er fotget 
The years I've s]ieiil with you ? 

1 cannot, for I ne'er have met 
With hearts more leal and true. 

Tho' now (he bugle I've resigned. 

The wings, and red coatee, 
I'll ever cherish in my mind 

That garb so dear to me. 
Whatever dress may clothe my back. 

My heart remains the same ; 
I'll prove il should a foul attack 

Be made on soldier's fame. 
Where'er the 95th may go, 

In foreign climes to serve, 
May fav'ring brceies on them blow, 

And long their lives preserve. 

On 8th May, 1845, Mr, Adam gave a public evening 
entertainment in the Saracen's Head Inn, Paisley, of a very 
interesting kind, consisting of songs and recitations, all his 
own composition. The pieces were all well received by the 
numerous and highly respectable audience of ladies and 
gentlemen. In thanking the company at the end for the 
kind and enthkisiastic reception he had met with, he stated 
that he would take an early opportunity of giving another 
night's entertainment to his friends in Paisley. But I have 
been unable to discover that he ever did so. Mr. Adam's 
mother was a daughter of Mr. King of Lonend. 


PETER GIBB was a native of Paisley, and his trade 
wa; that of enterer of weavers' webs. He lived for many 
yeaiB in one of the low thatched houses on the south side of 
Wellmeadow Street, and afterwards in High Street near 
Lady Lane. " Peter Gibb, poet," as he called himself, 
courted the muse, but I cannot say successfully. He had 
two poems of some length, of which he was very proud. 
The one was an account of the great Refonn procession 
that took place on 9th May, 1831, when the tradesmen of 
Paisley walked, with many flags, bands of music, and motto- 
banners, from Paisley to Renfrew, to the numerously-attended 
meeting on the lands of EldersUe. The cause of this meet- 
ing was the election of a member for the County to the new 
Parliament summoned after the dissolution on the rejection 
of E^l Grey's Reform Bill. The attendance of persons at 
this meeting was estimated at between forty and fifty 
thousand. The subject of the other poetical piece was the 
burning of John Brown's house in Lady Lane, I think in 
1830. The site is now occupied by the tenement on the west 
side, near the head of that street, having a cart entrance 
through it I give the following verses relating to the 
extinguishing of the conflagration from this piece as a 
specimen of Peter Gibb's rhyming powers, which certainly 
are distinguished by a broad kind of humour. 

John B- — — n, the dancing-mai 
His praise I will rehearse, 

For he was such an aeli\e mai 
He weet deserves a verse. 


" Pomp awi', ID)' lids, " he cried, 

" A5wi ooy cleier cbiel 
That comes to my Kbool at the Fair, 

He'll gel a penny reel ! " 

Another active man wai there. 

And I must sound his fame, 
A manufacturer by trade. 

And P r is his name. 

He took a sloup into hi^ hand 

To let them see a sample, 
For well he knew no precept was 

So powerful as example. 

Tam C g was there amang the crond, 

And he was very Ihrang, 
He ran for water in his mouth, 

For it could haud a gang. 
Says one to me—" That's a Uact job, 

.Sure, Peter, it's no guid ; " 
Another cries — " It's very bad, 

But 1 think the job is rai." 

Will. S n liv'd in the neil door, 

lie kept a whisky shop ; 
Kind soul, he kepi their spirits up 

Hy pouring down a drop. 
Nae doubt but he had cause himsell 

To raise a hue and cry, 
The house he liv'd in wai his ain, 

And stood so very high. 

Affrighted, he ran through the croud, 

And on them he did ca' 
That they would haud the water-pipes 

To play upon his wa' ; 
For had the fire come ihioogh the wa'. 

How dreadful had it been — 
The whisky kegs would hae blown up 

Like a pouthei magiiecn 1 


ALEXANDER COLQUHOUN, a native of Paisley, 
was a teacher of the French and Italian languages in High 
Street. He gave up teaching in Paisley, and became the 
editor of the Greenock Intelligencer. Before leaving Paisley, 
his pupils and friends, on 6th February, 1834, entertained 
him at a supper in the Commercial Inn. About seventy 
gentlemen attended, and Mr. Ballantyne, from Glasgow, 
was in the chair, and Mr. Graham acted as croupier. 

Mr. Colquhoun some time afterwards left Greenock, and 
edited the Edinburgh Weekly Chronicle. He died at Edin- 
burgh on 18th March, 1840. Mr. Colquhoun did not enjoy 
robust health. He was an amiable man, an excellent 
modem linguist, and possessed very considerable literary 
abilities. Besides cultivating a chaste and classical style in 
his prose writings, he also paid his addresses to '.he Muses, 
and contributed poetical pieces to " The Gaberlunzie," the 
" Paisley Magazine," the " Poet's Corner " of the Paisley 
Advertiter, and to other periodicals, but they were never 
collected for the press. We extract from " The Gaber- 
lunzie," published in 1825, page 110, the following passage, 
which appears under the heading of 

Aye, there's ihe slrecl in all its glofy slill ; 

The idle shopman, lounging at his door, 

With hands in pockets tat as he can Ixire, 
Taking of ease and laziness his tilJ. 
And ever and anon hi-^ joj'ous eye 

Wanders along his window's ample space. 

Well filled with ctolhs and prints, ribbons and lace, 
And bills, which swear they're cheap wilh many a lie. 


See that poor dmnkard from the lavem reel. 
His muscles all retax'd and powerle^ grown, 
The comers of his moulh seem butlon'd down. 

And o'er his features rage and mirth alternate steal. 

With happy look he views Ibe objects near, 
Then E<uddeiily he starts with such a stare. 
As if the devil himself he noticed there ; 

The landlord all the while looks on with wicked sneer. 

This landlord much like other landlords seems — 
A portly form an alderman might covet, 
A double chin — all glowing bright above it, 

His nose's point like fiery beacon gleams. 

This (ire was kindled on mine host's good nose 
By watchful Providence's wise decree. 
That il a beacon and a iign should be 

To keep men l>ack from drinking's dreadful woes. 

Here yells a herring wife — there squalls a child, 
Thump'd by ils mother for some wickeil deed- 
Jolt go the carts~the coaches thundering speed — 

And all is crash and noise — confusion loud and wild. 

The following is another extract from a piece published 

in the " Paisley Magazine," page i68, under the title of 


The Arabs' tents were sel, 

And Ihe welcome couch was spread, 
And the slumber that toils beget 

Had sunk on each wandering head, 
Save one old man, who lingered yet, 

\Vhilc his prayers to his God he said. 
Wherefore thai sudden cry. 

And those ghastly looks of fear ? 
Why glares he on the sky. 

And bends as if to hear? 
" arise, my sons 1 " he cries, " and Hy, 

For the hand of the Lord is here ! 


" I had bcDt me down to pray. 
Ere 1 sought my couch of res). 
When the light of a dreadful day 

Arose in the burning west. 
And the fites of heaven began to play 
On the Red Sea's lurid breut, 
" And a rush of chaiioCs came 

On ihe wings of the Hind of night. 
And armour threw back the Hame 
or that pillar of dreadful light. 
And unearthly hosts without number or name 
Appeared to my dazzled sight. 
' ' God of my fathers ! see ! 

They ride o'er the watery deep, 
And the waves before them flee 
I From the path where the chariots sweep ; 

And a thousand squadrons ate prancing free 
Where the blue waves late did leap ! 
" The Lord doth Israel save 

From the hand of the cruel foe, 
But Pharaoh shall find a grave 

The angry deeps below ; 

And lu I even now the boiling wave 

O'er his hosts dolh rushing go '. 

" One wild and dreadful cry — 

One rash of dying men— 

And the waters on tbem lie, 

And all is calm again. 
O Israel ! praise your God on high, 
Who hath the oppressor slain." 

I am tempted to take other two poems, by the pen of this 
able authoFj from the " Paisley Magazine," page 343, 
entitled — 

All— all is lost ! the bloody die is east ; 
And in yon latest roll of dying light 
From me Ihe sceptre of the world hath past. 
My armies, late rejoicing in their might. 


Trod down, dispeised, or broke in headlong flighl ; 

And, like a waning star dashed down from heaven. 

My bding greatness sinks in ruin's night ; 

All I have fought for from my grasp is riven, 

And where I reigned I now am forth an outcast driven. 

Why live I yet ? Oh ! what to me is life 

When all for which I lived and toiled is gone ? 

Was it for this through years of feverish strife 

I followed where Ambilion lured me on ? 

For this thai Fortune's star upon me shone 

So long, so bright, that 1 should be at last 

A thing without a name — on earth alone — 

Even from my fellow-men an outlaw cast. 

My days a blank — my sonl scathed by destmclion's blast ? 


Few months have pass'd since through the chutchyard's gloo 

I view'd a sad procession wend its way ; 
1 saw the sable bier as in the tomb 

It slowly sank from life's bright realms away. 
I saw the solemn mourners gaiher'd round. 

As rang the earth upon the coffin lid ; 
I mark'd the tear that silent sought the ground 

For him thus from Iheir sight for ever hid. 
Yes ; faces pale, and weeping eyes were there. 

The vilest wretch can claim a pitying sigh ; 
But, oh I bow deep those pangs the bosom tear. 

When earth's pure gems, the good, the virtuous die. 
Then, as the spade tears up the broken ground, 

So sorrow tears the broken, bleeding heart ; 
And as the mould is scattered rudely round. 

So all our scatter'd hopes and joys depart. 
Now the green grass, in Spring's fresh loveliness, 

Waves as if ne'er the spade its roots had broke ; 
Even so the heart a prey to deep distress 

May seem in lime to rise above the stroke. 


Bnl pierce beneath the smooth and verdant sod, 

And there, imnolic'd, rot the blackening bones ! 
So doth an inward grief the heart conode, 

Although by man unheard its deepest groans. 
How sound thou sleep's! !— Eternal night has spread 

Its gloom around thy cold and leaden eye ; 
Thy joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, are lied ; 

Thy friend's wofst woes now claim no pitying sigh. 
For thee, in vain the glorious sun may rise 

On hills of purple— vales of softest green ; 
Or evening's ruby hues, from western skies. 

In gold and crimson wrap the fairy scene. 
No more for thee the pure and sparkling stream 

Leaps o'er the awful mountain's rugged side ; 
No more for thee the moon's pale silvery beam 

Sleeps on the bosom of the waveless tide. 
The dark and silent lake — the heathy hill, 

Round whose high summit showery vapours wrcalhe- 
The thousand glowing stars night's arch that (ill. 

Those calm pale rays seem peace to man to breathe, 
Thou canst not see— but thou in purer skies 

Behold'si Etemily's bright radiance glow. 
The beauteotis scenes of Earth meet not thine eyes ; 

But brighter, lovelier far than aught below. 
These scenes where seraphs' feet alone can tread — 

Those vales of bloom where souls alone may stray- 
That land where lovelier tints than evening's spread- 
That heaven of bliss which will not pass away. 


THOMAS SPREUL was bom at Beltrees, and was 
engaged as a teacher during the most of his Hfe, In 1822, 
he taught in New Town of Behrees, LochwinDoch, and in 
that year published a book of 7 1 pages, entitled " The Life 
and Experience of Samuel Kyle, who died at North- 
Glenside, i4lh May, 1820." Mr. Kyle.whowasofaverypious 
disposition, was a poet, and left an account of his life in 
verse. At this time Mr. Spreul was cultivating the muse, 
for the pre&ce to this book, which he calls the " advertise- 
ment," was in verse. He appears to have been a teacher at 
Uplawmoor, in the parish of Neilslon, for a short time, and 
for many years afterwards he had a school in Paisley. Mr. 
Spreul was a good teacher of arithmetic, mensuration, and 
mathematics. In 1832, he pubhshed a book of 160 pages, 
of which Mr. Alex. Gardner was the printer, entitled 
" A Series of Practical Mathematical Exercises ; containing 
rules and examples for the mensuration of solids and 
superficies — the construction of vessels of different fonns 
and capacity— the measurement of land, with or without the 
chain, &c. With rules for comparing the prices between the 
new and old measures. Designed for the use of schools, 
and adapted to practical purposes." In 1840 was pubhshed 
a small book entitled " Exercises on Punctuation, Abbrevia- 
tion, and Roman Numeral Letters, &c. Second edition. 
Containing a description of the boundaries of every county 
in Scotland, with the population of each in 1831, By 
Thomas Spreul, Teacher of English." And in the following 
year he published a small volume of 72 pages entitled 
"The Arithmetician's Instructor, adapted to the use of 
schools and private individuals, containing the fundametital 


rales, and their application to mercantile calculations. Also 
directions to assist manu^cturers and weavers to count 
bamess flowers at the common rate of 5000 shots per yard ; 
and to find the quantity of weft on any piece of cloth ; and 
the number of ells of warp in any given number of spindles 
of yam to any given hundreds of warp." 

Mr. Spreul several years afterwards removed to Glasgow, 
where he died in 1854. As already stated, he courted the 
muse, and the largest poetical piece he composed was en- 
titled "Clootie and Willie ; or, Gleniffer Warlock. A Tale.'' 
It was his intention to publish a second and an improved 
edition of this tale, and, along with it, another poem, " The 
Battle of Stanely," but he never managed to cany out this 
resolution. The tale of the Gleniffer Warlock is too long 
for my limits, but I give an extract from it. 


When Willie frae tbe Fair was comin' 
Auld Clootie met him, wi' aiwrnmiHi, 
To wait an' see a full inspection 
Into his annual re-election ; 
Tbe Warlock thought this sun 
But, oh ! man, how it wrought his ci 
His knees they smote, his body trembl'd, 
Like ane in ague he resembl'd. 
Till he came on Gleniffer brae, 
When in a swoon he fell away. 
His hame he reach'd just at the gloamin', 
When Nannie was in anger foamin', 
And tauld her that the dcil himsel' 
Had come to meet him out o' hell ; 
And by him he had been sae frighted. 
As caus'd him to be sae benighted. 
" Ve silly man, ye hav'ral," jra/i«^, 
" 1 ken right weel it is a meeting 
That Clootie wants you 10 at ten', 
That he may get you at the en', 



And to ken, also, tout afTection 

Unto his annual re-election, 

Or whether you think man deceived 

When Purgatory is believed. 

For weel he kens you hae a pleasure 

In hoarding up much stolen treasure. 

An' kens as weel you're as complele 

A rascal, an' a hypocrite, 

As e'er was in his dark dominion — 

This, Willie, is my iinn opinion. 

He kens your Sabbath proTanatioii 

In working at your occupation. 

In men'in' shoon, on' cawin' tackets. 

In sewin' claes, an' raisin' rackets ; 

What marks you maist , you read and pray 

Aye Iwa-lhree times ilk Sabbath day." 

Auld Willie shook his head wi' anger, 

And said — "Ye w e, I've thol'd you langer 

Than ony man wad in the nation." 

Then spak' these words, wi' indignation : — 

" The race fiae trhilk you sprang in Mull, 

Is som'at like your Warlock Will, 

But diflers maistly in the gender, 

For yc're the Goose, and I'm the Gander. 

Ae Haliowe'en, when Tammie Lock 

Cam' frae the Green to pou a stock, 

A towsie elf cam' to the door. 

And ca'd you but, wi' awfu' roar ; 

When it and you did laugh and tell 

That you caus'd Fatic hang himsel' ; 

Then, wi' ils eldritch face sae glum. 

It instantly sprang up the lum. 

Ae tther nicht, when it was wat. 

Ye singly by the ingle sal. 

And taulk'd about the skailhcd kye 

That he had aften milked dry ; 

I'hcn tauld mc that ye had a notion 

To gi'c me some of Clootie's potion, 

To mak' me understan' the matter 

Why kbtra. fo'k o' witches clatter." 


ANN MARIA MAXWELL (formerly Ainslle), the wife 
of Captain Maxwell of Bredihnd, was a native of England. 
Before her marriage to Captain Maxwell, I understand she 
was a governess. The Maxwells of Brediland and Merks- 
worth were an old Renfrewshire family, and, as their estates 
adjoined the town of Paisley, they frequently took an inte- 
rest in the public affairs of the inhabitants, and some of the 
members of the family were at times engaged in its trade. 
Captain James Maxwell, the son of William Maxwell, who 
died at Merksworth in 1837, served during the Peninsular 
War in the Stirlingshire Militia, At the peace in r8i5, on 
Captain Maxwell's military services being no longer required, 
he lived with his father at Merksworth, and married the 
highly-accomplished lady the subject of this memoir. 

Mrs. Maxwell possessed a cultured taste for literature. 
In 1820 she published a volume of 204 pages, with the sin- 
gular title of " Letters from the Dead to the Living ; and 
Moral Letters." Mrs. Maxwell was also a composer of 
verses, and I shall give at the end of this notice two of her 
compositions, taken from the volume just referred to. In 
1839 she published the "Young Lady's Almanac, &c., for 
1840," In the following year she published " The Young 
Lady's Monitor and Married Woman's Friend ;" and in the 
same year she published the " Ladies' Guide to Epistolary 
Correspondence, being a series of Original Letters adapted 
to most of the Ordinary Occurrences of Life." This is a 
little gem of a volume suitable for the pocket The first 
volume of " The Renfrewshire Annual, being a Collection 
of Original Pieces in Prose and Verse, chiefly by Native 
Authors," was published in 1841, and it was ably edited by 
Mis. Maxwell. The first long and interesting prose article 


in the volume, " The Lady Marjorey," is from the pen of 
the Editor ; and there is another by the same lady, called 
" Blanche and Isabella ; or, the Two Friends," a tale of 
Sicily, translated from the French. The second and last 
volume of this Annual was published in 1842, and was also 
edited by Mrs. Maxwell. In this volume there are two able 
prose pieces written by her. The one has the title of 
" The Accession," and refers to the elevation to the throne 
of England of James VI. of Scotland on the death of Queen 
Elizabeth ; the other piece was " Bayard," a French story. 
She had no family. 

Mrs. Maxwell died, after a period of protracted suffering, 
at Merksworth Cottage, Paisley, on 25th June, 1845, aged 
fifty-two years. The Editor of the Raifrcwshire Advertiser, 
commenting on her death at that time, stated that to her 
works " she brought the rare qualities of refinement and 
delicate taste, and no slight store of mental accomplish- 
ments. Mrs. Maxwell was still more endeared to all who 
knew her by the gentleness and benevolence of her disposi- 
tion. Her womanly sympathies and kindness to the poor, 
which shed a lustre over her character, will long cling to her 

As through a garden ]a(e I rrivM, 

And mosing walk'd along, 
While listening to the blackbird's nole. 

Or linnet's cheerful song. 
Around were flowers of viriou^ hues, 

The pink and daisy pied, 
When in the centre of a grove 

A blushing rose I spied. 
Eager to pluck the beauteous (lower, 

1 quickly hastened there ; 
Securely in my bosom plac'd, 
And watched with tender care. 


lu (ragnnt odours grateful were. 

And pleasant to the seiise ; 
lU leaves with brightest colours glow'd, 

Like vitpn innocence. 

But, lo ! ere evening dews descend, 
Those beauteous tints are Hed ; 

Wilher'd and blasted in their prime, 
ll droop'd its head and died I 

Sweet blossom, then, I sighing sajd, 

How soon thy beauties fly ! 
The fairest flower the garden knows 

With thee could never vie ! 

Be thou my silent monitor. 
And warn my heedless youth 

To follow bright religious paths 
In piely and Imlh. 

For while youth's transient charms decay, 

Those of the mind remain. 
Which, like the polished shining ore. 

Their lustre still retain. 

For outward charms of shape or face 

^oon wither bke the roae. 
Bat virtue only is Ihe source 

From whence true pleasure flows. 


Behold, where stealing o'er the midnight tomb 
Pale Cynthia sheds around her silver light. 

And bids the solilary mourner come 
To weep on Edmund's grave the lonely night. 

" Here lies," the Goddess said, " my darling son ; 
Beneath this turf-clad stone he rests bis head ; 
Fallen is the brave, and mute the timeful tongue. 
Since my lov'd Edmund's number'd with (be dead. 


" No more shall echo wild resound ay piaise. 
No more at eve the Ireiobling strain prolong ; 
No more the rustic throng repeat his lays, 
Oi listen to my Edmund's plaintive song. 

" What iho' no proud memorials of his worth. 
No glowing statues (vain mementoes) rise 
Id mournful state to deck his bed of earth. 
It is enough to say, ' Here Edmund lies !' 

" Yet still at eve shall hovering angels lend 

This hallowed spot, and walch with tender care 
His sacred dust, and pitying cherubs bend 
To guard the beauteous clay that moulders there. 

" And weeping viipns slill shall strew thy grave. 
With earliest tlow'rets deck the claf cold bed ; 
And gentle gales the mournful cypress wave 
In hollow murmurs o'er thy youthful head ! 

" And Cynthia, beaming on thy lonely tomb. 
Shall pay the last, the mournful tribute due 
To one cut off b manhood's brighest bloom. 
Nor ever bid thy grave a long adieu '. " 

J. B. 

A composer of poetry, under the initials J. 15., contributed 
six original poetical pieces to the " Harp of Renfrewshire" 
of 1 819. Although I have searched diHgently to discover 
who was the author, I have been unsuccessful. As they 
possess, however, considerable merit, I subjoin four of 
these effusions. 

^»r— "The Lass o' Arrantceme." 

Amid Loch Cat'rine's scenery wild 

Is seen my lassie's dwelling, 
Where cavem'd rocks, on mountains piled, 

Howl to the sea-breeze swelling. 
She's purer than the snaw that fa's 

On mountain's summit airy ; 
The sweetest mountain flower that blaws 

Is not so fair as Mary. 

*Tis sweet, when woodland echo rings 

Where purling streams meander, 
But sweeter when my Mary sings. 

As thro* the glens we ^'ander. 
The wild deer on the mountain side. 

The fabled Elf or Fairy, 
Or skiff, that skims the crystal tide. 

Moves not more light than Mary. 

From Lowland plains I've wander'd far. 

In endless search of pleasure, 
Till, guided by some friendly star, 

I found this lovely treasure. 
Altho' my native home has charms, 

Amang these hills 111 tarry ; 
And, while life's blood my bosom warms, 

111 love my dearest Mary. 



cease, je howling wiods, to blow. 
In measur'd bounds lei ocean flow. 
For, as the billows wildlf roll. 
Anguish moal keen o'erwhclms my sonl. 

Go, fell Despair, I seek not ihee. 

Who paints so black, things that migjil be. 

Thro' silent midnight's solemn hour. 
In horrid dreams I feel thy power, 
When Tenors, wakening Fancy, tave, 

1 hear the boisterous roaring wave ; 

My lover's bark engulph'd I see. 
And starting, sigh, such things may be. 

Come, gentle Hope, assume thy reign. 
With heavenly smile to cheer me deign ; 
Then awfol visions qiiiek shall fly, 
And brighter scenes their place supply. 
Whilst I, adoring, trusting thee, 
Enraptur'd cry, — might such things be. 

Air— "The LegKy" 
Now the ruddy sun is setting. 

Now (he clouds with crimson glow. 
Evening's dew my bower is welting. 

Fresh again my sorrows flow. 
O'er these scenes my sportive fancy 

Oft has roam'd with raplur'd joy ; 
Now their charms have fled with Nancy, 

Saddening thoughts my soul employ. 

Lonely in the deep glen straying, 
Lonely on the woody hill, 

Wildly to the nide blast playing. 
Softly to the weeping rill. 

J. B. 

On my hapless fate I ponder, 
Whilst thy name on fav'rile tree 

Gnv'd, nhere once we used lo wander. 
Turns my thoughts, false nymph, lo thee. 

Tho' the love was false that bound thee. 

Could I harm thee, Nancy ?— No ; 
Should I wish remorse mighl wound thee, 

TU too late lo soothe my woe. 
Now my dreams of bliss are over. 

And my heart feels anguish sore ; 
Still, fair Nancy, with ihy lover. 

Be thou blesl when I'm no more. 


^.V- '■ The moon WM a-wsnlng, " 
Loud roar'd the tempest, the night was descending. 
Alone lo the beach was the fair maiden weniling ; 
She eyed the dark wave thro' its light foaming cover. 
And chill grew her helrl as she thought on her lover. 
Long has she wandcr'd, her maiden heart fearing ; 
Wild rolls her eye, but no bark is appearing ; 
No kind star of light thro' the dark sky is beaming. 
And far Is the cliff where the beacon is gleaming. 
In vain for thy love (he beacon [fame's burning, 
And vain is thy gaie to descry him reluniing ; 
No longer he strives 'gainst the billows' rude motion. 
For heavy they roll o'er his bed of the ocean. 
" Ah t where is my child gone ? long does she tarry." 
Fond mother, forbear ; thou'rt not heard by thy Mary ; 
For sound is her sleep on the dark weedy piilow— 
Her bed the cold sand, and her sheet the rude bQlow. 



ANDREW LEIPER was a naUTC of Piislcr. He 
a handloani wea%'er to trade, and devoted some of his : 
to verse-writing. Mr. J. S. Mitchell, in his lecture oa 
Paisley Poets, delivered in the Liberal Chib in DeormSrr, 
1S82, stated that ^ Leiper was the least known of our kxal 
poets, and that he died about twenty years ago, when be 
was an inmate of the town's poorfaouse." He was a member 
of a chib called the Republican Club, and the greater 
number of his poetical pieces partook largely of the pothkal 
sentiments held by that body. Mr. Mitchell stated also 
that " he called at the poorhouse to see Leiper when staying 
there, along with Julian Harney, Chartist leader, well known 
for the active part he took in the movement at that time.* 
I have examined the preserved poetry written by Ldpcr, 
which was kindly lent to me, and I give some selections 
which are free from the extreme political and even seditious 
opinions held by him. 


'Twos Saturday night, and iast barr'd was each door ; 
I pull'd out my cutty, o'er old scenes to pore, 

When headless fell cutty, past mortal to mend. 
Not Rome's consternation by fierce Goth when sack*d, 
Not Spanish dismay when by Britons unback'd, 
Not Miser, who wakens to hoard, reft and gone. 
Not Monarch exchanging for dungeon his throne. 

Could equal my grief for my cutty, my friend. 

I writh'd like a giant disarm'd by a boy ; 
I shudder'd like Cossack deprived of his prey ; 

And deem'd my fate harder than, Lucifer, thine. 
Say, Job, when thy sweet links of life all were broke ; 


Stptietm, dechre fnaa Aj tu sterik nul i 
Speak, SCTPgii, irtwsc barque sinks a vrcdc in the tide ; 
TcQ, Idto^, wkcEe btidc &lb i caqsc al thj side ; — 
O tdl mc jovr fediDgs. More bittei were mine. 

Fncwdl, mjr dear cntty, whose cbaxins ne'er rould cloj ; 
Tboa Indiu's Milscc, tboa Mnssulmui's joy ; 

Hcnr mim was thy kiss, and how balm; thj brealh. 
Lei maiden (briom past endeannents bewail, 
LM spendtluift of fled bods [dale tlie sad tale. 
Lei rnonra the old warnor laa battle's lost day, 
Let sages lament o'er an empire's deca j ,— 

Tbcir woes an but wind when compar'd with thy death. 

Life seem'd a dream Toid, now my catly «^s gone ; 
Deep, deep were my sighs, and fai deeper my groan. 

As from my chill brow the big dropj I did wipe. 
Had a Seraph essay'd then his song's highest swell. 
Had Arabia's perfumes rode in clouds on the gale. 
Had Persian carpet my room overspread. 
Had an heiress been wailing my coming to wed — 

N^lected and scorn'd had been all for my pipe. 

I envied a Tartar 'midst wolves with his pipe, 
Or smoking Hindoo though in crocodile's gripe, 

For a moment of pleasure— worth aees— have they. 
I wish'd for ibe poison-bowl, da^er, ui noose. 
To end my dire woes— last, I wish'd for the Muse, 
So here is the bantling of my tortur'd brain. 
And, lest I run mad, III keep two pipes again, 

Nor trust my soul's bliss to one frail piece of clay. 

Music ! thou sweetest gift of Heav'n, 
For godlike ends 10 mortals giv'n, — 
The good, the bad, the savage mind. 
Alike thy willing fetters bind ; 


Speech, prostiate, owns iby power divine. 
And renders homage at th]' shrine ; 
For who am tell thy pl«asine force, 
When, rolling in thy concert course. 
The heart, with joy ecstatic lom. 
Is on a tide of transport borne ; 
The giddy soul wild rapture feels, 
And in dcliglitiul ajiguish reels. 
To me — though dim the visions bright 
Of ear refin'd, of taste polite — 
To me full dear the ancient airs 
That tighlen'd feudal Scotia's cares ; 
And still her sons, no less renown'd, 
Drink valour at the " martial sound," 
Or melt in love, or shout with glee, 
And bless their native harmony. 

The sun in the meadows shone bright, 
Save the field where my Mary did stray, 

A fiulicsomc cloud obscur'd his sweet light. 
For it saw he might well spare his way. 

O Mary, thy love-beaming eye 

Told ray heart where to find its soft home ; 
AihI changing from thee were from Eden to Hy, 

And from Virtue's bright palace to roam. 

Hail time but a day, ordy one, 
Of delight life's liark gloom to aiiorn. 

That day tpvnt with thee for all ills would atone. 
And wuuli! render it bliss to be bom. 



WILLIAM BRUNTON was a native of the parish of 
Stitchell, in the coanty of Roxburgh, and was boTD on 9th 
October, 1800. His &ther was a farmer on the skirts of the 
Cheviot Hills, and was eighty-six years of age when he died. 
Mr. BruntOD received the tirst part of his education from his 
mother, then at the parish school of Bawden, and after- 
wards at the Grammar School of Selkirk. When he left 
school his health failed a good deal, and he was without 
employment, except working about his father's farm. 
Through the influence of a friend, he obtained, when about 
twenty years of age, an appointment to a school in the 
colliery village of Coatdyke, near Airdrie. He succeeded 
very well in this school j and two of the Bairds, who after- 
wards became important and wealthy ironmasters, were 
among his pupils. While in this situation he provided for 
some time a substitute, to enable him to attend classes in 
the Glasgow University. In 1825 he received an appoint- 
ment to a classical and mathematical adventure school in 
Falkirk. In r83r he was appointed by the Magi si rates and 
Town Council of Campbellown to the Burgh and Parish 
School of that town. When the Rectorship of the Paisley 
Grammar School became vacant by the leaving of Dr. 
William Hunter, he applied for it, and was chosen by the 
Town -Council of Paisley on 15th February, 1842. Mr. 
Brunton was a valuable and successful teacher in that insti- 
tution, and in March, 1S47, had the honour of having the 
degree of LL.D. conferred on him by the University of 
Glasgow. After the new School Board was elected in 1872, 
he continued to fill his important position till 1878, when he 


retired with an annual allowance. Dr. BnintOQ ultiinately 
resided in Edinburgh, where he died on 8th November, 1883. 
He very moderately wooed the muse, and I give a specimen 
of his verses : — 

See Scotland's Hero bending o'er his shield. 
In medilalion deep upon his country's ills t 
His targe eye flashes, and bis bosom (ills 
With youlhful ardour for the tented fielA 
To Edward's maiid3.tes must the free-born yield? 
The very thought his valiant spirit chills. 
Yet nerves with vigour — every sinew thrills 
With ardent courage, while his heart is steel'd. 
" My country shall be free. Turn, brothers, turn ! 
Let tyranis' dictites wasted be on air. 
My indignation and my valour bum 

Of Fatherland the injuries to repair." 
Forth spring the young, the valiant, and the free ; 
And follow firmly him of Eldeistie. 

' Suggested by a picture of Sir William Wallace in the Royal 
Grammar School Exhibition in behalf of the Library, l8th Febnuuy, 
1847.— //ar/ of RcnJrcwMrt, Second Series, p. 481. 



WILLIAM M'NICOL was a native of Paisley, but I 
have not been able to learn anything fiirther relating to him. 
He published in i860 a small volume of poetiy, entitled 
"The Humming Bees, or Original Works. By the Author," 
William M'Nicol is thus one of the minor poets of Paisley. 
The book was printed by " Caldwell & Son, 2 New Street, 

' The )vro George C^dwells, like the Ncilsons, assisted grea.tly in 
the printing and in giving facilities for the circulation of the works of 
the poets and other aspiiants lo literary fame in Paisley. Some par- 
ticDlus regaiding them wilt therefore, I think, be acceptable. Geo^e 
Caldwell, ienior, was born in Kilwinning in 1744, and came to Paisley 
when sixteen ^ears of a^e lo learn silk-weaving, which was then in a 
thriving condition. Being industrious and careful in preserving his 
haid-eamed money, his intelligence led him to apply it to the purchas' 
ing of books, and in this way he acquired a library of considerable size. 
By the advice of his friends, and for his own pecuniary advantage, be, 
when twenty-five years of age, converted his private stock of books into 
a public circulating library, which was accommodated in the eastmost 
ibop in the tenement No. 14 St. Mirren Street- While the library 
occupied the froot shop, be worked at his loom in the back part of the 
bouse. His business, which included that of the selling of books, pros- 
pered so much, that, in 1774, he removed to latter premises, which are 
now nearly represented by No. 4 Causeysidc. From thence he shortly 
afterwards, to meet the demands of his still increasing business, removed 
to the north-east comer of Dyers' Wynd and Moss Street, then called 
Moss Row. Mr. Caldwell in these premises largely carried on the pro- 
duction of chap-books, then so popular, and also of pictures of a very 
common class, such as " The World Turned Upside Down." The fur- 
nishing of these lo hawkers and packmen formed a considerable busi. 
ness, but he likewise supplied extensively merchants and shopkeepers 
in different parts of the country. Mr. James Lurasdcn, jonior, 
in Gla^ow, who dealt extensively in these things, and had numerous 
bansaclions with Mr. Caldwell, was so well pleased with his honourable 
and upright conduct, that he had bis portrait engraved, with this in- 
scription, " This portrait of George Caldwell, senior, Paisley, is respect- 
fiiUy dedicated to the Booksellers in the West of Scotland, by their 
ob«lient servant, James Lumsden, junior." I possess a copy of this 
rare portrait. Mr. Caldwell died in 1S26, in the eighty-second year of 
his age. Mr. George Caldwell, son of the foregoing, was taught by his 



Atr~-" The Lau o' Gowiu." 
How pleasant are the months a' Spiingi 

While warblers chant and sweetly sii^ ; 
They'll cause our very ears to rii^ 

When in the woods o' Stanely- 
This Slanely b a pleasant spot. 
Where warriors aften did resort ; 
Can this auld castle be forgot, 

Close by the woods o' Slanely? 

father to be a bookbinder. He was born in 17S7. and commenced 
business in 1807 as a bookseller in No. i Broomlands Street, at the 
head of Castle Street, that property havinc belonged to his mother. 
In 1831 he acquired the properly at the north-east comer of New Street 
and High Street, succeeding Mr. James Logan, bookseller.' Mr. 
Caldwell, in addition to a trade in chap-books in great varieties, having 
illustrations of the rudest kind, sold much of the periodical litera- 
ture of the day. He also commenced letterpress printing on % larger 
scale, and in 1827 removed his business to the second jloor at No. 3 
New Street, and some con^erable time afterwards to (he shop under- 
neath. There he remained till 1867, when he retired froi ' 

c the deafness with which she was much aRlicIed. They walked by 
Dumfries and Carlisle to London, and after crossing the Channel in a 
sailing packet to Osiend, they travelled to the battlefield of Waterloo. 
They left Paisley on 5th June, and returned home precisely in the 
same way. The deafness left Mrs, Caldwell during the journey, but 

1 jAmes Logan. ahhouBh not a nalite, was lono id l>uunf«i in Paiiley u n paper 
ntnhiint. l7iieTihi)pUnDfbu.^neuwu>nl!ie ColTn-Rooin Buildinn >»< he 
wu dcaiimaicd aia uiuoner iaibe "Dinclory' oTltuI year. When he aftcrviRlt 
had hii place of biuioeu at Ihe comer thspalthe head of New Slicel, ahkh wa> 
Ihcn No. 69 Hifh Sirtcl, il wu called a italioncry warehouie. When he mid iboe 
nrvmiui. as already Aiated, la Mr. Caldwell, bookneJIcr, he appean to have rvinotcd 
w Na. 9 Uou Slreet. under the desiKnatian of Calhcart Paper 
He acquired, beside) other lauds, the imall euaie of Wemnaich. 
'hich he creeled a handuine dweliinti. house, where he rcuded both prior to and 

eil b'ib^'ui 

I, and he alto hy lus will bound hit 

Veumarch. uhT 10 erect al the same ^ 



An' rocky glens on every side. 
Where wimplbg barns do smoothly glide. 
We view these streams and swelling tide. 
When in the woods o' Sianely. 

Ao' lofiy hill* where lambkins play. 
So gently as they'll pass the day. 
An' Nature's works men can display. 
When in the woods o' Stanely. 

Where larks are hovering in the air, 

Might roDse the gods, I do declare ; 

This song is done, I'll say nae raair— 

Come view the woods o' Stanely. 

retnmed again after being at home for a bhort time. Mr^. Caldwell 
was a strong ^vocate far total abstinence from strong drink, uid in this 
opinion her husband joined in a moderate way. Besides being very 
auirJ in her manners, sbe was obstinate and self-willed, which led her 
into many extravagances, including the erection at considerable expense 
of a lower at Sandyford, on the road to Renfrew, where they dwell, 
which she called " The Teetotal Tower." It was commenced in 1838, 
and finished two years thereafter, without any preconceived plan. It 
WIS cooslmcted mostly of wood, in the Chinese style of architecture, 
and was five storeys in height, with a room in each storey for the 
accommodation of a supply of refreshments. On the afternoon of 
Friday, the 1st May, 1S40, a g^nd soiree look place in the tower, to 
celebrate its opening— the Kev. Patrick Brewster in the chair. Ad- 
dresses were delivered by the Chairman, Mr. A. Wallace, and other 
gentlemen. Mrs. Calduell herwlf also delivered an address to the 
bdies. The tickets for admission were zs. each, and the free proceeds 
were given in aid of the Home Temperance Mission and Total Abstin- 
ence Society. A similar soiree, with the admission reduced one half, 
was held on the afternoon of the following day, to accommodate those 
who couU not attend on the preceding day. Mr. Caldwell himself, 
whom I al one time knew very well, besides being industrious and in- 
telligent, uas also most upright and gcnuil in all his transactions. He 
died on iglh May, 1S71— his '■"''- -—1 f— ""■■ i--" — -" ■ 
him, with the exception of a n 
went to Australia. 



[This piece was recited by myself in the Old Low Church, and was 
received with great applause. Since that time many of my friends have 
urged me to publish it The debate on that evening was whether 
Poetry or Music was most pleasant to the ear. This piece alludes to the 
bad times in the year 1820, when many were out of employment It 
may be sung to the air of " Watty and Meg.'T 

Summer decks the trees wi' verdure, 

A' the fields are looking green ; 
When the winter storms are blawin'. 

See wha then will be your frien*. 
Trade is bad in ev*ry nation. 

Times, we ken, they are severe ; 
Naething for the poor man's pleasure — 

Times are dark an' markets dear. 

This will hurt the poor man's feelings. 

Working hard and feeling want ; 
What will come o' wife an' bairns 

When their mea is always scant. 
Sorry am I for my neighbours 

That are M'and'ring up or down ; 
The most of them here are weavers. 

No webs have, to fill their loom. 

Nane can tell what will come o' us 

When the days are creeping in ? 
Want o' siller, bare o' cleading — 

Ix>ok here at my clouted shoon ! 
How can we here face the winter 

When we are a' dune within ? 
Meal is scant, an' little kitchen 

Mak's our cheeks to be sae thin. 

Health an' wealth can mak' some happy, 

Wealth is fled awa frae me, 
A' the flowers are fast decaying, 

Mak's us wander like the bee. 
When old age is mixt wi' frailty. 

Few friends ken ils here ava ; 
Friends we had when we had plenty — 

Noo they are a' fled awa. 


Vtanj a daji we've looin'd our cappy. 

At Fair bmes had aye a rant ; 
L — d, ye ken we aye had plenty, 

Mak's US lak' sae ill wi' want. 
Down ihe hill sae fasi we're trolting, 

A" our summer days are past ; 
Naething here can gie us pleasure 

If this winter be our last. 
Our yoke is placed upon our shoulders. 

That's well known without a doubt ; 
We must a' bear here our burdens, 

And some are whipped like the brute, 
By oppression creeping under. 

Aye to keep the poor maq down, 
Wc have a door we darena enter — 

The lang road aye maun gang round. 


^ir— " WccI may Ihe boalie row." 
The hours of pleasure pass away 

In sweetest days in May, 
Where gentle streams do smoothly glide 
To kill the lime away. 
The boatie rows, the boatie rows, 

To hail us to our shore ; 
The boatie rows, the boatie rows — 
Seems sweet when labour's o'er. 
When down by Cart, such pleasant days 

My bosom warms to see ; 
While Nature decks the fields around. 

The boatie rows, &c. 
From the Quay Lane we did set sail, 

So sweet the time did glide i 
More pleasant where the water swells. 
By turning of the tide. 
The boatie rows. See. 



JAMES WHITEHILL, who was a foreman in a shawl 
warehouse, was a native of Paisley, and took an active part 
in the transactions of the Literary and Convivial Association 
(L. C. A.) He also, like the greater number of the mem- 
bers, cultivated the muse, and, to show how much that 
social club was appreciated by him, he composed the follow- 
ing song, which I have taken from the minute-book of that 

society : — 

THE L. C. A. 

Come up ye wha seek, through a* the week. 

To gar things cleek wi' toil nae sma' ; 
When shav'd and clean on Saturday e'en, 

Step in and see the L. C. A. 
A mine o* variety's L. C. A., 
The pink o* society's L. C. A. ; 
Howe'er inclined, ye're sure to find 
What suits your mind in L. C. A. 

If gi'en to fun, to joke, or pun, 

On better grun' ye couldna' fa', 
Ye'U meet your fit at strokes o* wit 

Ere lang ye sit in L. C. A. 
The mirth-creating L. C. A., 
The dull, care-hating L. C. A. , 
The wit-inspiring, fancy-firing, 
Laughing, daifing L. C. A. 

Or, if your mind be so inclined, 

That science deep ye wish to draw, 
Ye'U learn to soar, or deeply bore 

In learned lore, in L. C. A. 
The grave-debating L. C. A., 
The investigating L. C. A., 
The essay-inditing, lecture-writing, 
Philosophical L. C. A. 

Your ABC ye'U need to hae, 

For fear ye may a word misca' 
When you they ask to mount the desk, 

To read your task in L. C A. 


The watching, catching L. C. A., 
The snapping, trapping L. C. A., 
They'll let yon see what soun' to gie 

In silent E, in L. C. A. 
O' something maic than fun or beer 

Yell gel a share, if here ye ca' ; 
For in the press we keep a glass 

To drink success to L. C. A. 
The drinking, thinking L. C. A., 
The joking, smoking L C. A., 
The laughing, quafRng, shouting, spouting. 

Roaring, boring L. C. A. 
The fools wha miss a night like this 

Their wives should hiss and them raises'. 
An hour spent here is worth a year, 

Wi' siecan cheer in L. C. A. 
The care-destroying L. C. A., 
The life'Cnjoying L. C. A., 
The toast then join, wi' nine times nine — 
" Prosperity to the L. C. A."' 

' The members of the Literary and Convivial Association were laud- 
ably desirous for the belter improvement of their minds. This society 
— which, for brevity, was known in the town as the L, C. A. — was 
formed as far back as about 1813, and its office-bearers consisted of a 
President, Vice-President, Secretary, Treasurer, and Steward, who 
were elected quarterly. Its meetings, which were regularly recorded in 
a minule-book kept for the purpose, were held on Saturday evenings at 
eight o'clock, in a room taken for the purpose, but never in connection 
with a public-house. Generally, no meetings were held betwixt May 
and August. New members were proposed at any meeting, and 
their election took place at a subsequent one, and membeis were only 
admitted on having the support of two-thirils of those present. One or 
Iwo strangers, or non-members, were allowed 10 be present at their 
meetings. The club provided their own liquor, and the steward took 
charge of this part of the business. At the meeting held on l6th 
Febniary, 1825, it was agreed " that only one round of liquor should be 
given between ibe hours of eicht and ten." It was also agreed "that 
members coming after nine o\:lock shoulil forfeit their glass of liquor, 
and that the steward should be accountable for any such forfeit." The 
means used by ihe members for Iheir inlelleclual improvement consisted 
of (l) Essays prepared by the members, and read at their weekly meet- 
ings ; (2) Questions submitted, which, after being discussed, were 
decided by votings ; (3) Readings. Al a meeting held on 26th July, 
1833, it was agreed " that they respectively produce an essay azmually 



JOHN CARSWELL was bom in Moss Street, Paisley. 
He belonged to the family of the Messrs. Carswell who had 
their place of business in Moss Street, and were for a long 
time merchants or muslin and thread manufacturers in 
Paisley. Some of the members of the same firm frequently 
took an active part in the management of the public affairs 
of the Burgh and its charities. In 1808, George Carswell 
belonging to that firm was one of the Magistrates of the 
Burgh. Mr. John Carswell, the subject of this short 
memoir, was designated in the public directories " teacher 
of writing and pattern drawer." He died on 28th July, 

betwixt the Paisley Fairs in August and May thereafter, at their con- 
veniency, under the penalties exacted by the articles for default of 
essaying." The penalty exacted varied from one to two shillings. 
The subjects of the essays read were of a very diversified character. 
The following may be taken as specimens : — On the English Stage — 
Philosophy of Fiction — On Poetry, with a Sketch of its Rise and Pro- 
gress — On Traits of Human Character — On the Cause of Infidelity — 
On Civilization — On the Authenticity of Ossian's Poems — On Grammar 
— On Entomology — The Propagation of Insects — On Holidays — On 
Popular Amusements — On Trades' Unions — On Love — On the Moral 
Tendency of the Drama — On the use of the Globes. The numerous 
questions propounded and debated were of the usual kind, and were 
taken, very likely, from a publication containing them. The readings, 
of which there were one or more every night of meeting by the members, 
were from literary works of the highest standard, such as Campbell's 
Pleasures of Hope — Philosophical Dictionary — Tales of a Grandfather 
—The Acts of the Apostles — A Piece from Scott's Collection — Tristram 
Shandy — The Worlcl — Voyage Round the World — A Poem — Volncy's 
Ruins of Empires — Alonzo the Brave, from Lewis — 35th Chapter of Job 
— Irvine's Elements — Dr. Johnson's Rasselas — Times and Seasons, 
from M'Culloch's Course of Reading — Burial of Sir John Moore — 
Kames's Sketches on Reason — Spectator on the Immortality of the Soul 
— Blair's Sermons — Gregory on Eclipses — Gregory's Lesson on Frost— 
Goldsmith — Gregory on the Planets — Addison— Citizen of the World — 
Mirror — Lecture on Chemistry — Anster Fair. The members belonged to 
the better class of tradesmen, and the number who attended the meetings 
varied fix>m about 12 to 20. I possess a copy of the minutes of this 
praiseworthy and laudable association, from 23rd July, 1823, till the end 
of 1834, which I copied from the original minute-books. Several things 


1S66, in tlic scvcntv-lhird year of his ni/c. DurinLf a i)art 
ui his Hll-iinK', he was a votai)' of tlu- inu>c*. in the latter 
part of his Hfe, he resolved to collect and publish a goodly 
number of his poetical pieces, but unfortunately this proposal 
was not carried out. Several of his poetical effusions ap- 
peared in the local newspapers and periodicals, and from 
these I have culled two specimens. 


Music BY J. Jaap. 

O ! remember, dear Jeamiic, yon sweet rosie bower, 
Where thy smiles made the simmer's lang day like an hour, 
While around thee, like woodbine, my heart did entwine 
When I sighed on thy bosom and wished ye were mine. 

Though the mavis sang sweetly frae yon birken tree. 
And tho' sweetly the lavVock sang mountin* sae hie, 
A* in vain was their strivin' my love to decline. 
Or this ae wish to lessen — O ! were ye but mine. 

in it are worthy of being noted apart from what I have already stated. 
On 1st January, 1825, they agreed " that, being exempted from busi- 
ness, the day was held by the society in convivial and social glee, when 
the utmost hilarity and social joy prevailed." On 22nd August, 1829, 
they agreed **that there be a stated periodical reading by a member, 
instead of one each night, and that once in six weeks regularly, six 
members do read from any production according to their respective 
fimcies, but each reading not to exceed ten minutes, and a criticism to 
follow each reader, and excluding every other kind of business on that 
evening." On 2nd October, 1830, ** they received a letter from James 
Dunlop, (an old member) , with a present of 50 francs to the club, to be 
laid out for the promoting of its laudable purposes." At the following 
meeting of the club, they agreed that this money ** would be best laid 
out in the purchase of a pair of globes." On 13th October, 1833, they 
" agreed that we meet by Hallowe'en to punish the Blythsmeat treats 
and Bachelor fines." The club regularly celebrated the anniversary of 
the birth of Bums, and the last they held was in 1857 — indeed, this is 
the last public notice I have found of the L. C. A. They sometimes 
held the anniversary of the birth of Tannahill. The songs and poetical 
pieces by members of the club were recorded in a book by themselves. 
There were 23 of these by John King, 14 by James Yool, 2 by William 
Stewart, and i by J. Whitehill. 

A I 


And in vain waved 7011 suckle whereon honuaed tbe b 
Yon Bweet crawflower an' primrose that dazzled 107 e'e 
For whenever their beauty compared I wi' thine 
They my wish only strengthened — O ! were ye but nui 
O ! believe me, dear Jeannie, I'll ever be true. 
Neither Uird, Un', not siller, will part me frae yoo ; 
Since you've aye been sac faiibfu' this ring tak' o' mim 
As a pledge that I'll never be ony's but thine. 

A lassie lives by yonder bora 

That jinks about the sc^gan^ 
And aTt she gies her sheep a turn 

To feed amang the brackens- 
Could I believe she'd woo wi' me. 

And tak' me for her taddie, 
I'd aften slip out owre tb« lea 

And row her in my plaidie. 

Her breiil tae busk I'd violeB pu' 

That blaw aboon the bc^e, 
Wi' bluebells hanging wet wi' dew 

Frae yonder glen sae foggie. 
I maun awa', I canna' stay. 

Should a' gang tapsiheerie, — 
Should belles meet me in the glen. 

This nicht I'll sec my dearie. 


WILLIAM CR( )SS, a natisc of Lnisk}-, was born in 
1S04. In early lilc he learned to be a pattern drawer, and 
was afterwards a shawl manufacturer, — first in the firm of 
Cross & Walker, next alone in his own name, and latterly 
in the firm of Cross, Clyde, & Cochran. He bought for 
Mr. Alexander Colquhoun, a literary friend and teacher of 
the French language in Paisley, the Edinburgh Chronicle 
newspaper. Mr. Colquhoun having shortly afterwards died, 
and the shawl trade in Paisley in 1840 beginning to be 
greatly depressed, Mr. Cross resolved to conduct that news- 
paper himself. Before leaving Paisley, Mr. Cross was 
entertained, on 22nd May, 1840, by his friends at a public 
supper, held in the Golden Lion Inn, Paisley. The number 
of gentlemen present was upwards of sixty, — Provost Bisset 
occupying the chair, and Mr. James Drummond (late 
Provost) officiating as croupier. The Edinburgh Chronicle^ 
under the management of Mr. Cross, was not successful. 
He sold it in 1845, and resumed his old business in Glasgow 
with great success. 

I do not know when Mr. Cross first commenced to culti- 
vate the muse ; but I find in the " Gaberlunzie,*' a periodical 
published in Paisley in 1825, and edited by Mr. Archibald 
Crawford, a song called " Long Yellow Hair," and two 
other pieces, respectively named " Edie Ochiltree " and the 
" Auld Man's Lament," the author of all of these being Mr. 
Cross. The two last are in his book of " Songs and Miscel- 
laneous Poems," published in 1882. When the " Gaber- 
lunzie " was published, he was twenty-one years of age. 

A story written by Mr. Cross, called " The Disruption," 
appeared in the Edinburgh Chronicle^ and pleased so very 


well that it was also published as a separate volume in 1846. 
After being out of print for a long time, the proprietors of 
the W»f/v MaU several years ago bought the copyright 
firom Mr Cross, and reprinted it in that newspaper. 

In 1882, Mr. Cross collected the most of his poetical 
pieces, and had them, as already stated, published in a book 
of lis pageSi under the title of "Songs and Miscellaneous 
Poems, Written in rare intervals of Leisure in the course of 
a busy life." This volume contains many songs of a 
humorous character, such as " The Dainty Bit Plan," " The 
Canting Auld Kimmer," and " The Kilbarchan Recruit" 
We copy from that book the beautiful song of 


run/ — "The Brooin o' ihc Cowdenfcnowa." 
Adieu, Culross ! adieu ! adieu ! 

Dear home of peaceful resl ; 
Here simple worth and pleasures true 

Brood in a shelter'd nest. 

! the days, the happy days 
Spent in thy calm retreat I 

No other scene such thoughts can raise 

As thy'd street. 
How swiftly fled the hours away 

Amidst thy sweet repose, 
From dawn of every golden day 

Till dewy evening's close. 
Farewell, dear town ; as summer air 

Breathes o'er the new-mown hay, 

1 sigh to leave a scene so fair. 
And linger on the way. 

As bees frequent (he heathy braes, 

And baims the sandy shore, 
My thoughts will haunt the flowery ways 

My feet may tread no more^ 


I have only further to add that Mr. Cross died at his own 
residence in Glasgow on 39th October, 1886, at the ad- 
vanced age of eighty-two years. 

My beltane o' life and my gay days are gane. 
And now I am feckless, and dowle, and lane. 
And mj laminas o' Kfe, its floods o' saut tears. 
Has drowned a' the joys 0' ray young happy yeais. 
Full threescore and ten times the gowan has spread 
Since first owre Ihe meadow wi' light foot I sped. 
And threescore and ten limes the blue bells hae blawn 
Since lo pu' them I first daunder'd biythe owre the lawn. 
The bum banks I lo'ed when a callant to range, 
And the beather.clad brae, now seem eerie and strange. 
The bum seems na' clear, and the lift seems na' blue ; 
l)Dt it's aiblins ray auld een that dinna' tell true. 
The mates o' my young days are a' wede awa', 
The sunshine they shared, but escaped frae the snaw ; 
like the swallows, they Red when youth's w^im days were gane. 
And I'm left like a winged ane in winter alane. 
To yon aged hawthorn that hends o'er the bum. 
Its wide-scattered blossoms can never reluin — 
They are swept lo the sea o'er dark plumb and deep linn, 
Sae toy comrades hae flourlsh'd and Sed ane by ane. 
Il seems short (o look back since my Peggy was young. 
Bliss beam'd in her features, joy flow'd fiae her tongue ; 
But ray Pe^iy has left me, and gane like the lave. 
And the wind whistles shrill o'er my dear Pe^y's grave. 
My Pe(a^ was ruddy, my Peggy was fair. 
Mild was her blue e'e, and fu' modest her air ; 
But I needna' (ell now what my Pe^y has been, 
For blanch'd are her red cheeks, and closed her blue e'en. 
The wind whistles shrill, snell and bitter's the blast. 
And death o'er my head waves his fell rung al last ; 
I have beard for the last time the laverock's sweet sang, 
He may cour frae the storm I>y my grave ere't be lang. 


Soon may Ihe worm on this auld bodf feed, 

Soon may the nettles grow rank at my head. 

And some herd in thae few words may sum up my Gune — 

"There's an auld man lies here, I've forgotten his iuud&" 


Our May had an e'e to a man, 

Nae less Ihan the newly-placed preacher ; 
And we plotted a dainty bit plan 
For trapping our spiritual teacher. 
were sly, sly ! O, wc were sly and sleekil ; 
'cr say a herring is dry until it be reesCit and reekit. 

We treated young Mr. M'Gock, 

We plied him wj" lea an<i wi" toddy ; 

And we praised every word that he spoke, 
Till we put him maist out o' the body. 
O, we were sly, sly 1 &c. 

Frae the kirk we were never awa'. 
Except when frae hame he was helping ; 

And then May, and often us a', 
Gaed &r and near after him skelping. 
O, we were sly, sly ; &c. 

We said aye, which our neighbours thought droll, 
That to hear him gang through wi' a sermon 

Was (though a wee dry on the whole) 
As refreshing's the dew on Mount Hcrmon. 
O, we were sly, sly ! &c. 

Bui to come to the heart o' the nit— 
The dainty bit plan that wc plotted 

Was to gel a sukscriplion a-fit, 

And a viatch to the minislcr voleil. 
O, we were sly, sly ! &c. 


TIm young vromen folk o' the kirk 

Bf turns tent a hand at collecting ; 
But May look the feck o' the wark, 
And the trouble the rest o' direcling. 
O, we were sly, sly ! &c 
A gran' watch was gotten belyve, 

And May, wi' sma' prigging, consentit 
To be ane o' a party o' five 
To gang to Ihe manse to present it 
O, we were sly, sty ! 4c. 
We a' gied a word o' advice 

To May iu a deep consultation. 
To hae something to say unco Dice, 
And to speak for the hale deputation. 
O, we were sly, sly ! &c. 
Taking present and speech batth in hand. 

May delivered a bonnie palaver. 
To let Mr. M'Gock understand 
How zealous she was in his favour. 
O, we were sly, sly ! &c. 
She said that the gift was to prove 

That his female friends valued him highly, 
But it could na express a' their love ; 
And she gliniil her e'e at hun slyly. 
O, we were sly, sly ! &c. 
He put the gold watch in his fab, 

And proudly he said he would wear it ; 
And, after some flattering gab, 
Tauld May he was gaun to be manyil. 
O, we were sly, sly ! O, we were sly and sleekil, 
But Mr. M'Gock was nae gowk wi' our dainty wee plan to 
May came hame wi' her heart at her mouth. 
And became, frae that hour, a Dissenter ; 
And now she's renewing her youth 
Wi' some hopes o' the Burgher precentor. 
O, but she's sly, sly ! O, but she's sly and sk-ekit, 
And cleverly opens a'e door as soon as another is sleekiL 



WILLIAM ALEXANDER, Finishing Writing Master, 
was bom at Millarston, Paisley, in 1805. His father, 
Archibald Alexander, commonly called Bauldie Alexander, 
and his grandfather, had a bleachfield there on the north 
side of the Candren Burn. His father had a family of six 
daughters and two sons, of whom the eldest son was the 

William Alexander was not sent to any school, but was 
taught by his parents at home. At six years of age he was 
employed as a drawboy, and afterwards he learned the art 
of weaving. After his apprenticeship was completed, while 
working as a journeyman, he attended in the evenings the 
Maxwelton School, where he became a good penman. 
Under a proper master, he likewise acquired considerable 
' knowledge of music; and in 1826, when only twenty -one 
years of age, he was considered worthy of appointment as 
an instructor in music in the parish schools of Lochgilphead 
and Inverary, where he appears to have given every satis- 

In 1827 he married Mary Sim, a daughter of Mr. James 
Sim, manager in the works of Messrs. James Carlile, Sons, 
& Co., thread manufacturers. Paisley. Mary Sim was a 
sister of John Sim, M.D., author of several poems and songs 
of considerable merit, to whom I have already referred 
at page 307. Alexander commenced to conduct writing 
classes in his own house at No. 2 New Street, Paisley. He 
besides taught classes in some of the more important towns 
in the south-west of Scotland, and his scholars and the 
leading inhabitants were much pleased with him. In 1833, 
he left Paisley and went to Edinburgh, and conducted 


classes with great success, and also in several towns in the 
south-east of Scotland. Being of a free, open disposition, 
and having a strong relish for society, he had many acquain- 
tances, and some of them being dissipated, he too most 
unfortunately became so himself From not attending to 
his classes, they became small, and he was under the 
necessity of leaving Edinburgh in 1848. His wife and two 
daughters went to Greenock in consequence of family 
differences, and he returned to Paisley to live with his sister, 
Mis. Ferguson, Broomlands. 

After his return to Paisley he had classes here, and also 
in many of the towns and villages in Renfrewshire ; but the 
unsteady habits he had acquired sadly interfered with his 
success. His heahh also beginning to fail, he was frequently 
forced to solicit aid from those whom he knew. In the 
beginning of 1874, he had an attack of apoplexy, and was 
afterwards removed to the Abbey Poorhouse, where he died 
on 4th February, 1875. His remains were taken to No. 72 
Canal Street (the residence of Mrs. Ritchie, another of 
his sisters), where the funeral party met to inter him in 
Paisley Cemetery. His wife had died at Greenock ten days 

It was quite in early life, while working at the loom, that 
Alexander became enchanted with the writing of poetry, and 
he continued so to indulge himself during the greater part 
of his life. Late in life, he amused himself by sending his 
verses to be inserted in the poet's corner in the news|)apers. 
But they were never collected and published till 1 did so in 
1881, along with a memoir of his life. To these, the reader 
is referred for further information regarding the man and his 
poems. This publication occupies 157 pages, and the last 
paragraph in the memoir concludes thus ; — 

" Undoubtedly, many of the songs have great merit, ard 
the thoughts are in many cases expressed in exquisite 


language ; but in perusing the following pieces, it must be 
borne in mind how very imperfect the Author's education 
was. Indeed, I may safely say that never was any one less 
indebted to school education, and it was only by eager 
application and diligent self- culture while he worked at the 
loom and during the earlier years of his busy, bustling life, 
that he acquired the varied information he possessed and 
taught himself how to use it In the perusal of this work, 
the reader will find abundant evidence that the Author, if 
not a man of genius, was at least a man of taste. He was 
always gentle and tender, if not strong and stirring. Un- 
educated and unguided as, he was, amid weakness, failings, 
and misfortunes, he was nevertheless a true poet." 

The poems and songs of William Alexander in that publi- 
cation are in number 158, and I select at random page 89: — 


Oh ! proudly neighed his gallant steed. 

And bright his falchion gleamed, 
While gaily on the morning breeze 

His shining banner streamed. 

And now the bursting lightnings flash, 

And hark ! the thunders roar ; 
Oh ! many a bosom 's bounding high 

Which soon will bound no more. 
His yielding ranks are round him strewn. 

His friends behind him far, 
Yet onward still he seeks the foe 

Where rolls the tide of war. 

Alas ! that valour's bright career 

So oft is soonest past, 
That heart which danger ne'er could move 

Lies cold and still at last. 
Oh ! deck with deathless flowers his grave, 

Oh ! hallowed be that spot, 
For he who dies for native rights 

Should never be forgot 


I also give one of his songs (page 90) entitled 

From the braes of Glen^iia how plcasnnl to view 
Tlie sbieling, the mailin, and stream gilding through, 
The covey, Ihe flockic, in innocence led, 
_ The miUt-maid and shepherd rejoicing the gtade. 

Blight SBOwy-while douda in the firmament shine, 
While lephyn are rippling the breast of Lochfyne, 
The roebuck speeds over the echoing hill. 
And the steed and the rider are seen at the rill. 

Oh ! now comes the skiff o'er the bonny wee wave. 
And the boatman is swelling Ihe song of the biave, 
At>d that is the laddie that's dearest 10 me— 
The laddie makes ilka thing pleasant to be. 
The summer is past and the harvest begun, 
Aivd the ripe yellow meadows rejoice in the sun ; 
But winter, cauld wmier, shall be summer to me, 
For then, oh ! 'tb then, that our bridal will be. 



See, the waves with joy are dancing— 

'Tis to welcome thee away — 
Bright and yet more brightly glancing 

Round thy wailing bark they play. 
Hatk ! the lephyr piast Ihee stealing. 

Fraught with soft >Eolian song. 
Whispers, and with deepest feeling — 

" Why hast thou delayed so long?" 

Bui when winds are softest sighing 

Stilt beware the coming breeze. 
Soon, their syren numbers dying, 

Darkening storms shall sweep the seas ; 


Soon the wave, so gently laving. 
Tempest -swollen, may lash the sky, 

Heedless, deaf to terrors, raving 
As affection's hopeless sigh. 

Yet, if still each fear suppressing. 

Still to distant climes ye roam, 
Say wilt thou return the blessing 

Which for thee we'll breathe at home ? 
If a tear should bathe thy pillow. 

Let it soothe thee then to know 
That for thee, far o'er the billow. 

Many a kindred drop shall flow ! 

See, the waves with joy are dancing — 
*Tis to welcome thee away — 

Bright and yet more brightly glancing 
Round thy waiting bark they play. 



Oh ! love not too fondly, oh ! love not too fast ; 

As the term of its Spring, so its Summer will last. 

Whatever of wild passion, the spirit, or power, 

Affection can ne'er be the child of an hour. 

Oh ! love not too fondly ; and loving, ne'er tell 

In its hopes and its fears there lives half of its spell. 

Let your deeds speak the tale, and, although the heart's won. 

Oh ! aye keep a-wooing as first 'twas begun. 

Oh ! love not too fondly ; but once if 'tis told, 
Beware from that moment you never seem cold, 
For then, each in claiming love's warmth as in right. 
One cold look may chill e'en a life of delight. 
Oh ! love not too fondly ; but love it can't be 
Where fondness is banished, where feeling is free. 
*Tis soulless, 'tis cold, as unworthy of trust — 
Oh ! I'd scorn e'en to name it— it rhymes with disgust. 



ROBERT STEWART was bom in Elderslie in 1806. 
He was by trade a handloom weaver, and worked in his 
native village and likewise at Craigenfeoch. He aftennards 
removed to Glasgow, where he was engaged in the weaving 
trade and also in manufacturing. He died on ayth Septem- 
ber, 1885. Mr. Stewart never resided in Paisley, but from 
the close proiumity of Elderslie to that town, and the 
numerous poetical and other acquaintances he had there, he 
was very closely identified with it. He was a votary of the 
muse, and published in 1851 a number of his poetical pieces, 
from which I give three selections. 

Upon GlenifTer's sunny biae, 

When Natnre's robes were new, 
To taste the pleasures 0' the day 

I sat me on the brow. 
The heather - bell in early bloom 

O'erspread Cleniffer a', 
The hazel bow, the yellow broom, 

Hung o'er the waierth'. 
The woodlands a' aroun' seem'd gay, 

Auld Stanely stood In view, 
A wimpling bum did purling play 

The cultur'd lands down through. 
Wee birdies wi' melodious air 

Sang o'er their luncfu' notes. 
The yellow primrose deck'd the muir 

Wi' richest summer plots. 
The partridge whirr'd alang the brae. 

The cushat, eroodling, flew ; 
Then I, as set the e'ening grey, 

Ecslaiic hame-ward drew. 


By Brediland Shaw, where lambkini gij 

Fliit o'er ihe flowery gteen, 
I saw ihe sun's lasl parting ray 

Shine on my boniiie queen. 
Altd oh ! it was a happy sight, 

A blLs^fu' sight to me — 
The heavenly love o' nmiden light 

That spailded Trae her e'e. 
She had two cheeks like roses wet 

\Vi' e'ening's &'in£ dew, 
A dimpl'd chin, wi' eyebrows jet. 

And lips o' ruby hue. 
The flowing locks o' raven hair 

That rouitd her neck did play 
Wav'd loosely o'er a bosom where 

My hopes a' centred lay. 


Air— "■the Sodgiri Rciuni." 
Langsyne beside Allpalrick Bum, 

Amarifl wild flowers sae bonnie, 
How gaily bloom'd Itie sweet hawthorn 

That screened us tua frie ony. 
How fresh the briers and slae bush sprung 

Beside the bonnie buriiie, 
How sweet to me my Johnnie sung 

When 'nealh the blossuiu'd ihomie. 
The beei around our bou'r were ibiaog 

A' gath'ring the wild honey, 
The mavis down the bu^t^ide sang 

To charm me and my Johnnie. 
Now the crimson rose with beauty blows. 

Arrayed in brightest grandeur, 
The gowan that around it grows 

Is blooming in its splendour. 


r>ut wlmt :irc a' tlie -wct't^ [<> me 
O' .>uniincr m tluw i-. ^.ic Ijdiiiiic, 

Or what can a' .sic pleasure:^ gi'e 
When far frae me's my Johnnie? 

When far frae me my Johnnie's ta'en- 

In exile now a stranger — 
But, hoping he'll return again, 

By Patrick Bum I'll wander. 

O aye I hope for his return, 

I'm true to him as ony. 
And often by Altpatrick Bum 

I shed a tear for Johnnie. 



O ! welcome, welcome, autimin sere. 
To ripen wheat, and com, and beer ; 
Tho' thou a faded robe dost wear, 

I love thy wither'd cap ; 
For thou the peasant's hearth can cheer 
Wi' a' the treasures o' the year 

Gathered in thy lap. 

Tho* summer spreads her gaudy flow'rs, 
And decks fu' green the woods and bow'rs. 
And ev'ry little songster pours 

A sweet, melodious lay. 
The farmer's joy o' happy hours 
An autumn eve, when daylight low'rs, 

To stock his corn and hay. 

The labour o'er, and a' secure. 
The gudeman bars the outer door. 
Rejoicing o'er his ample store, 

Thanks God for blessings sent ; 
Can spare a handful to the poor. 
Can serve himsel*, and something o'er. 

Besides what pays his rent. 


REV. ALEXANDER RENNISON was bom in Bere-ick- 
on-Tweed on the 9th of August, 1807. His lather, Mr. 
John Rennison, was a veiy respectable bookseller in that 
town. Alexander Rennison received the rudiments of his 
education at the school taught by the Rev. Mr. Williamson 
and afterwards at ihe Grammar School of his native town. 
Mr. Rennison afterwards studied at the Edinburgh Univer- 
sity, and duting the lirst session he obtained the first prize 
for a poetical theme in Latin HcJtameters. After completing 
his curriculum, he was licensed as a preacher of the Gospel 
by the Presbytery of Chimside, and he shortly afterwards 
acted for a time as an assistant at Whitsonie and at Birken- 
head. He accepted a call to the church at Risley, near 
Warrington, in the Presbytery of Lancashire, and was 
ordained on 6th February, 1839. 

At the secession which took place in the Established 
Church of Scotland in 1843, the Rev. Dr. Burns having 
resigned his charge in St. George's Church, Paisley, Mr. 
Rennison was chosen by the congregation to be his suc- 
cessor, and he was inducted into the pastorate on zjrd 
February, 1844, where he rem.iined till his death on uth 
December, 1867. Mr. Rennison devoted some of his 
leisure time to the study of poetry, of which I give snme 



Fare thee well ! oh, not for ever ! — 

Heaven grant that may not be !— 
Fare Ihee well ! I go — but never 

^hall 1 cease to think of thee '. 


Though no smile thou deign'st to give 
That lay drooping soul might cheer, 
StUl I'U love ibee while I live. 

But to mem'ry drop a tear. 
Shonld another's bosom press thee — 
Should another's lips meet thine — 
SliU my latest breath would bless thee. 

Though a broken heart were mine. 
Dare I hope thou will not blast 
TTi' only blossom of my life ? 
Yet I reck not — soon 'tis past — 

Death can end all mortal slrife t 
If indeed (hou can'st not love me — 
Life's best sweets can only cloy — 
Death must then, death shall, remove m 

From a world (hat gives no joy. 
If e'er chance thy footsteps lead 

To the churchyard^to my tomb — 
There perhaps thou mayest read 

Of my sad, untimely doom. 
Will thou then refuse a tear. 

Wilt thou then refuse a sigh 
To his mem'ry, who, while here. 

Loved thee, and unloved did die. 
Fare thee well 1 I go — but never 

Shall I cease to think of thee ! 
Fare thee well 1 and if for ever, 
Alas ! for ever let it be. 


A smalt neat cot, retired from worldly din, 

Where envy cannot taint with noxious breath ; 
A conscience pure, that without fear of death 

I may enjoy a life that knows no sin ; 


A few choice books t' as^st ir 

Wilh Nature ; and a little spot of groond 

To cultivate foi exercise ; and groves around 
Where I may hear the airy songster's tone ; 
A bubbling stream that winds through grassy dales. 

In which the silver Irout delight to spoit. 

When I with cunning lly may drag ashore ; 

And last, not least (without which what avails 

All these), to crown the whole, a sweet consort. 
Affectionate and kind— I wish no more. 


Unconscious, I have wandered far atone 

Into the deep recesses of a wood, 
Till darker and more dark the gloom hath grown 

And stayed my erring course ; then I have stood 
Awhile, bewildered sore, then gaicd around. 

And floundered on again thro' dismal glades 
Ne'er sought before by roan. Silence profound. 

Arrayed in horrors, reigned 'neath midnight shades, 
Oh ! then methought the human race had passed 

The bourne of Time, and I was left behind — 
My doom elemal ! through the desert vast 

Of a dispeopled world to range nor find 
Our kindred soul^ forbidden to elude^ 
The pang of never-ending cheerless solitode I 


WILLIAM M'OSCAR was born at Lochwinnoch on the 
7th May, 1807. Soon afterwards, he and his parents left 
for Kilbarchan. His early education was obtained at the 
parish school. By perseverance and close application to 
study, under the directions of the Rev. Matthew Allison, 
Kilbarchan, he qualified himself to perform with satisfaction 
in Kilbarchan the onerous duties of a teacher of classics and 
modem languages. 

When quite young, he had a serious fall on the ice on 
Lochwinnoch Loch, producing paralysis on the right side, 
causing him to be lame during his life and unfitting him for 
any manual labour. But the accident did not impair in any 
way his mental faculties. 

For many years, he had a school in Paisley and taught 
the Latin and French languages. When Dr. Hunter, of the 
Grammar School, received the appointment of principal 
Classical Master of the High School, Liverpool, he selected 
Mr. M'Oscar to fill his place till a permanent successor was 
chosen. Mr. M'Oscar was a candidate to fill the vacancy. 
The election by the Town Council took place on 15th 
February, 1842. There were eight candidates altogether, 
and when the leet was reduced to two Mr. Brunton, teacher, 
Campbeltown, had eight votes and Mr. M'Oscar six. For 
some time, Mr. M'Oscar lived in Irvine and edited "The 
Ayrshire News Letter." He visited the continent of Europe, 
and also the United States of America. On returning from 
America he resided in Glasgow, where he edited " The 
Glasgow Theatrical Review." Subsequently, he went to 
reside with his brother in London, and, his health giving 


way, it was thought that his native air might be beneficial to 
him ; he therefore visited Glasgow, Paisley, and Kilbarchan. 
He died at the last-named village on nth January, 1877, 
aged 70 years. 

Mr. M*Oscar must have commenced early in life to court 
the muse, for I find a song of his in " The Tickler," pub- 
lished in 1828. In 1832, he published in Perth — where, I 
believe, he was then residing — a small volume of 29 pages. 
Of poetical pieces there are 17, and among them is the 
" Locher Brig Ghost," and the remainder are prose pieces, 
mostly relating to politics. In 1844 he published, in 
pamphlet form, an " Elegy on the Genius and Enterprise of 
Scottish Character, suggested by the Dinner given to James 
Fillans, Esq., sculptor, at Paisley, on 29th January, 1865." 

In the year following the death of Mr. M*Oscar, his 
poetical works were collected and published by his brother 
in London in a volume extending to 295 pages. 


Among all the flowers of the valley or mountain 

That blossom in beauty on hillside or lea, 
The flower that blooms fairest by rill or by fountain 

Is the Blue Bell of Scotland, the flower of the Free. 

The heath -flower our Covenant Fathers so cherished, 
When kneeling to Heaven on Faith's bended knee. 

That waves by the cairns of Martyrs long perished — 
The Blue Bell of Scotland, the flower of the Free. 

Our mothers caress it, our children, too, press it, 

As gently it ope*s to the morning its e'e ; 
And lovers do kiss it at gloaming, and bless it — 

The Blue Bell of Scotland, the flower of the Free. 

The stranger, enraptured, who wanders >vith pleasure 
Auld Scotland's wild beauties and grandeur to see, 

It sings him a welcome, in musical measure — 
The Blue Bell of Scotland, the flower of the Free. 


"With native devotion the Patriot hails it — 

Proud of the flower every hero should be, 
And woe to the rude daring foe who assails it — 

The Blue Bell of Scotland, the flower of the Free. 



Glory of Scotland, dome of classic lore ! 
Far in the past thy records have their birth. 
Poet and Patriot, Statesman and Divine, 
In boyhood pride, on Merit's wings to soar. 
The realms of Mind and Nature to explore, 
And, fired with fervour to proclaim thy worth. 
Have shed the light of knowledge o*er the earth, 
And made an honoured name for ever thine. 
Illustrious structure, venerable pile ! 
Thy halls are hallowed by the good and great. 
Then why should ruthless ruin thcc de:rpoil. 
Uproot thy walls, thy temple desecrate* 
And every trace of thee obliterate ? 


Oh ! Alma Mater, doomed to fall at last, 

Still shall thy daughter, on a fairer site 

By Clutha's banks on Kelvin's winding stream. 

Stand forth in beauty, splendour, unsurpassed, 

With Nature's treasure richly round her cast — 

The fairy precincts of poetic dream. 

Her spacious halls* aspiring youth invite, 

To mould the mind by Truth and Wisdom's light, 

And princely radiance over all shall beam. 

Hope of the future ! on thy wide domain 

Hail Scotia's sons to rivalry of mind. 

In language, science, art, whate'cr the strain 

That calls for aid to elevate mankind, 

Hers be the channel, free and unconhned. 



JAMES PATRICK was bora in the town of Beith on 
4th November, 1801. His parents lived there till 1808, 
when they removed to the village of Houston, and his fatheT 
died of consumption in the following year. James Patrick's 
education was limited to what was taught at the parish 
school, on leaving which he assisted his mother in the 
making of linen yarn for a lime. He afterwards became 
bound as an apprentice to a weaver. Being fond of reading, 
he had saved, when only nineteen years of age, as much 
money as purchased a small library of books. He thus read 
and studied the most of the popular poetical authors. The 
weaving trade becoming much depressed, and his health not 
being good, he made great efforts to obtain a situation free 
of manual labour, and succeeded, in 1819, in being ap- 
pointed a clerk in the establishment of Messrs. Garble, 
Paisley. In March, 1833, symptoms of consumption 
became apparent, and be went to reside at Glendaruel, in 
Argyleshire, where his health so much improved that he was 
able to resume his former situation. But about the end of 
September following lie became rapidly worse, with all the 
symptoms of the fatal disease. He did not leave the house 
after this, and died on 30th January, 1834. 

He cultivated the muse when residing at Houston and at 
Paiiley. A few of his poems appeared during his lifetime in 
a Glasgow newspaper under the fictitious name of "John 
Hazlewood, Jun." But his poetical effusions were, after his 
death, collected under the superintendence of the Rev. 
William Patrick, Hamilton, and published in 1836. I give 
a few specimens of his poetry, which are well worthy of 



Sing on, sweet lark, I heai thy noles 

The snowy clouds among, 
There's melody in thy sveet voice 

And ioy in thy sweet ^ong. 
Thou'rt almost vanish'd from my sight. 

And fancy thicks she hears 
The anthem of some spirit freed 

From this dark vale of teais. 
Hail, joyous bird I thou bringest back 

Youth's scenes to mern'r^s eye 
■When I have lain and mork'd thy conise 

Far in the deep blue sky. 
Oh I I have longed to follow thee 

Beyond frail mortal's sight — 
A rival in thy joyous song. 

Companion of thy flight. 
Thou shak'st the dew - drop from thy wing. 

And, soaring, momii'st on high. 
To hail the red sun journeying. 

Long ere he meets our eye. 
And then upon thy speckled breast 

His beams are tirst displayed. 
While every earthly thing around 

Must rest awhile in shade. 
Thou art unequall'd in thy flight, 

Unrivall'd in thy song; 
Thy love is truth, thy path is bright — 

Thou feel'st and fear'st no wrong. 
Hiul, lovely bird I thou dost enjoy 

The portion of the free; 
Man's tyrant hand can never throw 

His fclters over Ihec. 



Farewell, ye wild woods and ye mountains of mist ! 

Perhaps I may never behold you again — 
Ye hills of red heather which often I've prest 

As I gazed, with rapture, adown on the main. 

Dark Auchnagara, 'tis with tears that I leave thee — 
Tears that for ever must flow like the rain, 

Till memVy, in pity, of thy beauties bereave me ; 
But, ah I she can never while life shall remain. 

Still, still will I cherish the rapture you gave me 
Still, still if my mem'ry thy glories 1*11 see ; 

O where is the knave would not perish to save thee, 
O country of grandeur ! O land of the free ! 

I've heard the dread thunder, as it rolled from the heavens. 
Tremendously burst o'er thy heights, Ormidale, 

As if thy dark rocks by its strength had been riven 
And trembling confusedly down to the vale. 

Dark was the mom, and the rain - cloud was waving 
In hoary luxuriance athwart your wild brow, 

My heart heav'd for sorrow — ah, me ! — I was leaving 
A place I held dear as a lover his vow. 

Farewell, hills and glens, and thou sweet -winding river ! 

Loch Ridden, Loch Striven, and cloudy Benmore ! 
How painful the thought that we ever should sever, 

But, ah ! 'tis as death, that I'll see you no more ! 


The night was dark, loud rag'd the storm, 

The rain was driving sairly, 
"When wearied, destitute, forlorn, 

Roam'd Scotland's hapless Charlie. 

The hand that should ha'e sceptre sway'd 

A peasant's staff" supported — 
A peasant's garb that form array'd 

Queen -maidens might have courted. 


That head which sought lo wear a crowi 

A bonnet blue defended, 
A plaid was o'er that bosom throwa 

That for a star contended. 
Arouse thee, Scotland, once again I 

And draw the broadsword f^rly ; 
Redress thy wrongs, avenge thy slaio, 

And give (hy ciowq to Charlie. 

I stood on Jura's Isle alone, 

I stood on Jura's shore. 
And listened to the ocean's moan 

Join Corrivreckan's roar. 

Stand gazing on the bca, 
I saw him clasp his withered hand 

In much anxiety. 
I turned me to the heaving main. 

And could a boat desci; ; 
But to the vortex of the pool 

Alas! 'twas drawing nigh 1 
O 1 sorely strove the rowers then, 

But what can Fate defy? 
The boat went round like a whipping top 

And vanished ii;slantly. 
My eyes grew dim at the horrid sight, 

And palsied grew each hand ; 
Yet turned I to ihe aged man — 

He was sunk upon the strand. 
With feeble hands I raided his head. 

And words of comfort tried ; 
But all too late ! He muttered 

" My sons ! my sons !" — and died. 


JOHN MONTGOMERY BELL was a native of Paisley, 
where he was bom in 1804. He was the eldest son of John 
Bell, soapmaker in New Smithhills, and Elliot Montgomerie, 
both natives of Paisley. Mr. J. M. Bell received the first 
part of his education at the schools of Paisley, and, when 
leaving the Grammar School, he stood firat in his c]ass. 
Afterwards, at the University of Glasgow, he was distin- 
guished as a laborious and successful student. Having 
made choice of the profession of Advocate at the Scottish 
Bar, he entered on his studies at the University of Edin- 
burgh, and was called to the Bar in 1828. Mr. Bell, in his 
politics, was, like his father, a staunch Whig, and spoke at 
several meetings in Paisley during the Reform agitation in 
1832-3. In 1847 he was appointed an Advocate- Depute, 
and in 1851 he was raised to the important position of 
Sheriff of Kincardinshire. Sheriff Bell published a book on 
the Law of Arbitration. 

Sheriff Bell met with a sudden and lamentable death, 
which took place at Linwood, near Mid Calder, about ten 
miles from Edinburgh, on 24th October, 1863, from injuries 
sustained by a fall from his horse two days previously. He 
left behind him an admirable name as an accomplished 
lawyer and an able and excellent judge. 

Sheriff Bell was also a poet, and the year after his death a 
volume entitled "The Martyr of Liberty," of 51 pages, was 
published from MSS. left all in complete form. From this 
work, page 18, I give the following; — 

The Martyr moves, in inu&ing lost, 
His arms upon his bosom crossed, 
And shaded back with decent care 
In flowing folds his gruzled hair. 


Whilst ever snd anon his feet 
Stain with red drops the flinty street. 
His brow is fair, lits frame is slight, 
And somewhat bent by sorrow's blight, 
Yet is there in the form thus bowed 
A mien so loFly though Dot proud, 
And through the languor ot (hat Tace 
So bright a hope, so meek a grace. 
And in thai dear blue eye a look 
Where heaven so large a share partook, 
The meanest of the kind who saw 
Are lost in pity, less than awe. 
He feels nor heeds the bended glance 
Which meets and follows his advance. 
But leads, wilhin the guarded lane. 
Unto the grave his funeral train. 
Slowly the Martyr halh passed along. 
But stately and kingly through the throng — 
Stately and kingly through them all — 
He goes to his Master's festival ! 
The pile is grisly, and doom is near. 
But his Master's voice is in his car- 
Even now his soul is full of cheer ! 
Within the deadly pi!e he stands. 
And turning round with outspread hands. 
Forgiveness seemelL to convey 
To the poor creature hired to slay. 
Then to the stake his back addressed. 
He lifts to heaven his palms compressed. 
And, white his waist the fetter^i load, 
Mutely a]>peals from man to God ! 
As from one wounded heart, a moan 
Sighed through the crowd with thrilling ton 
So sighs the forest when a breeze 
In winter sweeps the wailing trees ; 
Though low, it swallowed in its surge 
The tolling of the dead bell's diige. 


WILLIAM CRAWFORD, a native of Paisley, was bom 
in 1803. He was a weaver to trade, and in 1825 enlisted 

as a soldier into the 59th Foot. I have been unable to 
ascertain almost anything further regarding him. In 1828, 
he published in Paisley a book entitled " The Fates of 
Alceus : or. Love's Knight F.rrant. An Amatory Poem in 
five books, with other poetical pieces on various subjects." 
Mr, Motherwell, in the " Paisley Magazine," page 158, thus 
amusingly criticises this book : — 

"We know a good deal of Paisley literature, and have 
revelled in its sweets even to satiety ; and knowing it so 
well, we cannot help admitting (hat the little volume before 
us is refreshing to our fancy, for in truth its character and 
complexion are essentially different from the usual poetical 
issues of the Paisley Press. It partakes of nothing in 
common with that mass of middling Scottish writers who 
have, since the death of Bums, deafened the world with 
song, and epistle, and elegy, written in our vernacular 
speech. We Uke the author, who, under all the disadvan- 
tages of humble birth and imperfect education, has dared to 
depart thus widely from the beaten path to vulgar notoriety 
so generally pursued by his countrymen in the same station 
of life. We Hke him for attempting to build his reputation 
on models less familiar to vulgar apprehension and less 
calculated perhaps to catch their affections. It is evident 
to us that he has gone to an earlier age for his copies, and 
refreshed himself with the rich versification, the classical 
allusion, and brilliant imagery, which distinguished some of 
Shakespeare's contemporaries." 

I give the following extract from "The Fates of Alceus": 
" With powerful wand the Hebrew prophet stood 
And ghing'fi Ndc's fruitful cuirtnt into blood, 
Wav'd up the tocusl'i, desolating bands. 
And chang'd 10 noisome lice the pr<^nanl taath. 


So changed the scene before Mj'stillus' sight, 
And sickly seem'd the field, tha' summer bright. 
Echo uncadenc'd struck his poisoned car. 
Nor bird, not btoolt, symphonious could appear; 
He lean'd his sickly head on Alceus' breast 
And thus his quivering lips his mind espress'd : 

" And wilt thou leave thy protege alone? 
How dark the cloud thou o'er the sun hast thrown. 
Rather than bear such tidings would I meet 
A serpent nestling in my mossy seal, 
Wouid find a load in every path I tread, 
And every rock chang'd to a Gorgon's head— 
With less compunction have beheld the storm 
llnleaf the grove, the flowery mead reform. 
Permit my humbler fates wilh thine to blend, 
Attendant on the fortunes of my friend. 

" There is a pungency, unpencil'd yel 

That, with electric tremor, strikes the heart, 
Making its inmost vital chords to smart 
When, from the endearing, balm -distilling bower; 
(Where childhood sported in a waste of flowers). 
The heavenly ties of calm domestic bliis. 
The sire's injunctions, the maternal kiss, 
The young heart severeth — a forecast, fraught 
Wilh sable woe, thwarts the disk of thought 
111 whose dim shades, clad in prophetic state. 
Fear gives responses of succeeding fate." 

The author thus writes regarding himself — 

I have attempted strenuously to rise; 

Thrice cursed be ihe fate that keeps me down, 
Ban'd from my native boundaries, the skies, 

My s.illies silenc'd by a step-dance frown, 
With boors my fate involv'd ; far from the wise 

My thoughts, my loaf, my veslinenls, russet cro 
Yet hold — for one mistake — I must retread. 

My coal (God save King George the Fourth) is 



CHARLES FLEMING was bom in 1804 in High 
Street, Paisley, where the house No. 60 now stands. His 
father, James Fleming, the son of a combmaker in Glasgow, 
came to Paisley in early life and married Isabella Galloway, 
the only child of parents residing in Townhead. They had 
thirteen children, of whom Charles, the subject of this brief 
memoir, was the eldest. James Fleming, the father of 
Charles Fleming, was a handloom weaver, and was a keen 

Of the early years of Charles Fleming, there are very few 
recollections even amongst his surviving relatives. His 
school education was that of the class to which he belonged, 
embracing little more than the elements of reading, writing, 
and arithmetic. Being of a quiet retiring disposition, and 
fond of his books, he left school with a better education 
than most of his fellows. 

While quite young, his father began to teach him the craft 
of a handloom weaver, which he afterwards followed, and 
till death separated them father and son had their looms in 
the same workshop. About 181 7, the family removed from 
60 High Street to No. 37 George Street, where for forty 
years they and the family of Matthew Tannahill, brother of 
the illustrious poet, lived. The upper part of the tenement 
was possessed by those two families, and the lower flat was 
occupied on the one side by the workshop and on the other 
by Charles Fleming's maternal grandfather and grandmother. 
After the death of his grandfather, Charles resided with his 
grandmother till she died ; he then returned to his i>arents, 
and never left them. He remained unmarried. 


He took no active part in either local or general politics ; 
the oa\j movement in which he took an active part was that 
which was carried on by the society for the protection of the 
dead, to which for a considerable time he acted as secretary. 
He was also always willing and ready to act for the Associa- 
tion of Weavers, to which he belonged. 

At what time he first attempted composition in prose or 
verse is not known. Every beautiful and romantic spot in 
the valley of the Cart he knew well and delighted to visit. 
Blackball Castle, Barrochan, Wallace's Tree (near Elderslie), 
Crookston Castle, and Hurlet Wood, were his favourite 
haunts, and became the subjects of his verse. At this time, 
Paisley could boast of quite a band of " sons of song," such 
as David Picken, Allan Stewart, James King, David Webster, 
John Mitchell, and William Murdoch, and all of them were 
on terms of intimacy or friendship. 

He improved his spare hours by attending a night school, 
in order to master those elements of education which he 
now felt he had only commenced at the day school ; and he 
became a subscriber to the Trades' Library, and read with 
great avidity the best books it contained on general literature. 
He was a regular attender of the Independent Church in 
Paisley while the Rev, Mr. Young was its minister, but after 
that gentieman left he did not go to any place of worship. 
He spent his Sabbaths at home reading and studying the 
Bible, with the assistance of such commentaries and works 
of divinity as he approved. 

All through life he was industrious, frugal, and contented, 
upright in word and deed, and full of kindly thoughts and 
feelings. In all his habits also, he was strictly sober and 
temperate. In his fifty-third year, he was prostrated by 
fever ; and conscious that his end was drawing near, he 
summoned some of his relatives to his bedside, when he 
solemnly prayed, commending himself to the mercy of God, 


and all who were dear to him, absent or present, to His 
goodness and His grace. His prayer being ended, he gently 
sank into the sleep of death. Thus, on Tuesday, 2nd June, 
1857, passed away a warm-hearted, gentle. Christian man. 
He left behind him a mass of poetic and prose pieces, and 
only a small portion was published during his lifetime.' I 
do not claim for Charles Fleming the rank of a great poet, 
but certainly he holds an honourable place in the roll of the 
minor poets in Paisley. 

The following is one of Charles Fleming's patriotic 
poems : — 


Talk not to me of southern skies 

Where beauty chines so bright, 
Where the mpl traveller slops and sighs, 

Bedazzled with the sight ; 
Where aromatic fragrance fills 

The ample lap of morn, 
And echo o'er the cloud capped hills 

To flowetj wilds is borne. 
My country's rocks and peaks so high. 

Where eagles love to dwell, 
Have feasted many a hero's eye, 

And lired his heart as well. 
The bearded thistle still with pride 

Grows hardy in our fields. 
The oak still guards the cottage side 

When the storm its sceptre wields. 
Then may our gowan'd fields ne'er feel 

The slave's inglorious tread. 
But men of worth still reap and till, 

As did the honoured dead. 

In 1878, I wrote and published a more complete memoir of the 
poet, to which the reader is referred ; and along wiih it about one-half 
of his poetical pieces, extending to 264 pages, and of his prose writings, 
amounting to 00 pages. 



Bring me Ihc harp, Ihat on its silent strings 

Notes I roay strike of undisseoibling woe ; 
The wise have felt that mnsic softly brings 

A solace for the tears that burning flow. 
Grief is my fellow, and its potent hand 

Has smitten me as with a hero's stroke ; 
I've learned to bear it with composure bland, 

Still grief, like watery clouds, has on me broke. 
My mother, thou life's fitful scene hast fled, 

Who taught me language in life's lisping mom. 
Who spread the pillow on my infant bed. 

And saw me o'er a sea of troubles bome. 
Oft did'st thou watch till midnight's solemn hour 

With the lone child, whose cheeks of sickly hue 
Oft saw thy tears mark fell disease's power, 

While mom again did all thy toils renew. 
The old arm ■ chair is vacant where thon sat. 

The magic of a sweei maternal smile 
Has disappeat'd, but memory tellelh what 

Thou praised in virtue or reproved in guile. 
Thy dust now mingles with thy father's dust. 

Whose worth and virtues were alike thine own ; 
Thy gentle mother slumbers there — we must 

Recall the valued friends before us gone. 


Retired and modest, blushing maid. 

Could 1 a moment gain thine ear 
On flowery lea or cooling shade 

What accents of delight tbou'dsl hear; 
I then could speak with friendly tongue— 

Though to the world I'm dull and btate — 
As deep as e'er in verse was sung 

The love I bear to thee, sweet Kate. 


No devotee in cloistered cell, 

Wilh visage pale and saddening e'e. 
Could e'er a tale o' watching tell 

As I have watched and felt for thee. 
I've seen thee in the rosy morn, 

And then at noon, o' nicht so late ; 
Cauld, cauld ihc blast thai 1 ha'e borne 

To catch a passing glimpse o' Kate. 

Thy features innocenl, though pale; 
Thou seem'dst in virtue ri|>ening fa^l, 

Like lily spared by biling gale, 
A luslre surely thou dost bring 

To all thy deeds defying hate. 
Till hoary Time shall reckless fling 

His wrinkles o'er thy blushes, Kate. 


How chang'd those banks where Wilson, musing, troil 

When fir^l he look'd "thro' nature up to (Joil," 

Anil caught (he raptures of poetic tire. 

As on my banks he tuned his lyre. 

Where flushed the fire of ^iiiiis from hLs eye? 

Where are his haunts, to trace Llieni who will try ? 

Wliere formed those ho[ies, whilst poverty he bore. 

That brought him laurels on Columbia's shore? 

The thunder's voice, the lightning's awful flame, 

Could not the ardour of his bosom tamo ; 

The dreary swamp, the wilderness, he traceil. 

Till science saw around her trophies pl.icnl. 

The truant school -boy olt would cautious tread 

My whitening brow and gain my 1 lamels head. 

The flush of joy glowed on the adventurous cheek 

As iluivn he look'd at Cartha's foaming heap. 

I' alike Lacila's eminence of death, 

Where self-destruction waved its laurel wreath. 

And kings and |>oets look their l.tst farewell. 

And the sad plunge did sound their funeral knell. 


DAVri) PIClvi:X was born at Xo. 37 Storie Street, 
Paisley, on i6th April, 1809. He received at school tiie 
usual amount of education then considered to be sufficient — 
reading, writing, and arithmetic. His father was by trade 
a weaver; and David, after being a drawboy — an assistant 
at a harness-loom — also became a weaver, and he continued 
at the loom till his death. Picken was never married, and 
he resided at No. 37 Storie Street with his parents till his 
father's death, in 1853, when he removed to Stevenson 
Street. He died there on 5th January, 1875, ^o™ ^^^ 
effects of a severe cold which he caught in the previous 
month, and his remains were interred in the family lair in 
the High Church burying -ground. David Picken*s chief 
companion was the good Charles Fleming. The poet was 
a pious, modest, unassuming man, and interested himself in 
surveying and appreciating the beauties of Nature, and after- 
wards composing descriptive verses in their praise. He was 
admired and beloved by every one who knew him. 

David Picken's poems and songs were collected after his 
death and published in 1875, accompanied with an excellent 
memoir by the late Mr. John Cook, to which the reader is 
referred for more information regarding this praiseworthy 


The sun along the south horizon 

Wades through dull clouds of misty grey, 
His feeble light is scarce sufficing 

To cheer the gleam of winter's day. 


On northern blasts the snowflakes flicker 

Wi' freezing sough across the lea ; 
The birds upon <he hedges twittet, 

Wi' drooping wing and closing e'e. 
Poor little things I though wintet rages. 

An' fields are covered o'er wi' snaw, 
'Neath bramble, brake, or sheltered hedges, 

Thejr pick up food unseen by a'. 
Unerring instinct warned the swallow 

To leave these cold, inclemenl skies; 
In southern climes he holds gay gala 

And feeds upon the sun-bom tlics. 
Other tribes, by hunger driven. 

Leave the upland for the coast. 
And there they find that bounteous heaven 

Provides them food untouched by frost. 
Thus for the birds that plough anJ sow not. 

Neither reap nor build a bam. 
The Lord provides ; mankind to show that 

From such teachings they may learn 
Of His kind and hctvenly care for 

Welfare and support of nian. 
He knows our wants and bids us therefore 

Practice His new Gospel plan : 
or doing as we would that others 

In like ways should do to us ; 
In works of love each other serving 

As we or they are prosperous. 


All hail 1 thou ancient wood and glen, 
Cleniffer! here I come again 

Thus early in the spring, 
To view each soul -in spiring scene 
And hear the birds in merry strain 

Their Maker's praises sing. 


!■ 1 ccil III iin i!k- 1 iii-w -w ai iii.ii_; I 1 "W il 
1 ii.u ^cc'Jk' lic;,(,.r,li \ Mil Miink s' (. 1, lUi I 

That ri>e> o'er each hiiii, 
To enjoy the sweets of secret prayer 
And breathe the caller morning air 
I early hither come. 

O, blest retreat, where, free from toil, 
How pleasing 'tis to muse awhile 

On that mysterious Power 
Who formed this earth, these woods and glens, 
These wild, romantic, rocky dens, 

Adorned with many a flower. 

Sure, *tis no crime on Sabbath mom — 
Before the bells the people warn 

To mount the hill of prayer — 
To take a walk in sober mood 
And muse upon the Great and Good 

Who's present everywhere ! 

No ! thus removed from worldly strife 
And all the busy cares of life 

In this retired abode, 
The soul in solemn converse sweet 
Soars, as it were, on wings to meet 

Its Maker and its God. 



When you and I, Jeannie, were wee things thegither, 

Doon by the bumsidc we aften did stray. 
An' walked hand -in-hand like a sister an' brither. 

An' pu'd the sweet wild -flowers that grew by the way. 

An' while that you gathered the primrose an' violet 
That grew 'mang the grass 'neath the wide-spreading thorn, 

I o'er in the wild wood did search for each floweret 
I thought was most worthy thy breast to adorn. 

Ah ! few were my cares in those days of my childhooil 
Compared with the many that now load my breast ; 

Nae mair will we seek our sweet flowers in the wildwood^ 
Nae mair will I ever again feel so blest. 


ANDREW PARK was a native of Renfrew, where he 
was born on 7 th March, 1807. He first attended the parish 
school, and completed his education at the Glasgow Uni- 
versity. In his fifteenth year he entered on his first employ- 
ment in a commission warehouse in Paisley, and while 
residing there he published a poem in sonnets, entitled the 
" Vision of Mankind." When about twenty years of age, he 
went to Glasgow to be a salesman in a hat manufactory. 
After a time, he commenced business on his own account as 
a hat merchant ; but not proving so successful as he desired, 
he sold his stock and went to London, But before going 
there, he published in 1 834 another volume of poems, under 
the title of the "Bridegroom and the Bride," which was 
looked upon as a higher and better effort than his previous 
work. His prospects in the Metropolis not being so good 
as he anticipated, he returned to Glasgow in 1841, purchased 
the stock of the late Dugald Moore, the poet, and became 
a bookseller. That business being likewise unsuccessful, he 
gave it up, and resolved to devote his time in future to 
literature. In 1843, he published "Silent Love," the most 
|>opular and successful of all his literary works, as the pro- 
duction of James Wilson, druggist in Paisley. A beautiful 
edition of this work, in small quarto, was published by 
Murray & Stewart, Paisley, with splendid illustrations by 
Mr. (now Sir) J. Noel Paton, then residing in Paisley. He 
visited Egypt and other eastern countries in 1856, and 
published in the following year a narrative of his travels, 
under the title of " Egypt and the East." 


Park's poems, a,s collected, were published in twelve 
volumes, and were again published by a London fimi in one 
larye volume. His poem entitled " Veritas " gives a narra- 
tivt; of the main events of his life down to 1849. Many of 
his songs possess both lyrical beauty and power, and several 
of them have been set to music and have become very 
popular, Mr. Park resided very much in Paisley, and spent 
a great deal of his lime there ; but it was in Glasgow he died 
on J7th December, 1863. His remains were interred in the 
Paisley Cemetery, according to a wish expressed by himself 
some time before his death. The poet's funeral took place 
on 2nd January, 1864, and his bier was followed to the 
grave by upwards of soo mourners. A handsome granite 
pedestal eight feet high, surmounted by a colossal bronze 
bust of the poet, was erected over the grave by his friends 
and admirers, and was inaugurated on 7th March, 1867, and 
handed over to the Magistrates and Town Council of Paisley 
for preservation. 


No man c'et loved like me. Wlien but a buy 
Love was iny solice Hn<l my only joy ; 
Its mystic influence fireil my tender liQul, 
And held me captive in lis soft control. 
By night, it ruled in brij;ht, ethereal dreamEt ; 
By day, in latent, cvet-varying ihcracs ; 
In solitude, or 'mid the city's throng. 
Or in the fcalal halls of mirth and sung, 
Throufih los.s, through quietude, or strife, 
This u'os tlie charm, tlic heart-pulse of my life. 
While age haa nut subdued the flame divine, 
A votacy still I worship at the shrine ; 
When cares enthral, or when the soul is free, 
Tis oil the same. No man u'cr luved like uie ! 


Think iiot a glaiici; too (nmsient to destroy 
Tbe calmness of the mind with mingled joy. 
Judge for yourselves, but make no strictures here. 
Set no mean Umili lo its hope and fear. 
Many could tell, if they but had (he art, 
The stirring power with which il throbs (he heart. 
Thrills every nerve, pursues through every vein 
Its path electric till it (ires the brain, 
And trembling there, like needle to the pole. 
Strange blushes rise in crimson from the soul ; 
The heaving breath, in respiration free, 
Convulsive feels with innate ecstasy. 


By Clyde's meandering stream, 
When Sol, in joy, is seen to leave 

The earth uilh crimson beam, 
When island-clouds Ihal wandered far 

Above bis sea-couch lie. 
And here and there some gem-like star 

Re-opes its sparkling eye. 
I see the msecis gather home 

That lov'd the evening lay, 
And minstrel birds that wanton roam 

And sing their vesper lay, 
All hurry lo their leafy beds 

Among the rustling trees, 
Till morn with new-born beauty sheds 

Her splendour o'er the seas. 
Majestic seem the barks that glide. 

As night creeps o'er (be sky, 
Along the sweet and tranquil Clyde 

And charm the gamer's eye. 
While spreading trees with plumage gay 

Smile vernal o'er the scene, 
And all is balmy as the May, 

All lovely and serene. 



lluriM for tlic Ilii^hlalul^ I llic ^Icrn Sculli^li 1 1 ij^lil.iinU ! 

The home of the clansman, the brave and the free ; 
Where the clouds love to rest on the mountain's rough breast 

Ere they journey afar o'er the islandless sea. 

'Tis there where the cataract sings to the breeze 

As it dashes in foam like a spirit of light, 
And 'tis there the bold fisherman bounds o'er the seas 

In his fleet tiny bark, through the perilous night. 

'Tis the land of deep shadow, of sunshine, and shower, 
There the hurricane revels in madness on high, 

For there it has might that can war with its power 
In the wild dizzy cliffs that are cleaving the sky. 

I have trod merry England and dwelt on its charms ; 

I have wander'd through Erin, that gem of the sea ; 
But the Highlands alone the true Scottish heart warms. 

Her heather is blooming, her eagles are free. 

Music by A. D. Thomson. 

Away, away, my gallant bark ! 

Across the deep - blue sea. 
Bound nobly as the dancing waves, 

And as the winds be free ! 
The snow-white sails their bosoms fill. 

Thy pennant streams on high. 
Then on, then on, my gallant bark ! 

Beneath that sun -bright sky. 

O that thou wert a thing of life. 

To feel and think like me. 
Then through the salt and surgy waves 

More gladly would'st thou flee. 
^Vith thought thou'dst travel hand-in-hand. 

More swift than tempests sweep. 
Then on, then on, my gallant bark I 

Along the princely deep ! 

JOHN ANDREWS was, I believe, a native of Paisley. 
According to the Paisley Directory, he was in business in 
Paisley in 1839 as a "lead drawer and dealer in weaving 
utensils at 10 New Smithhiils." In 1841, his name appears 
as carrying on business at 19 Lawn Street as a " lead 
drawer" and also as a "bookseller and librarian." In one 
of his business poetical notices in June, 1837, he 

" Requests thi: public to take notice 
Thai he has opened that Weavers' Office, 
No. 31 Causeyside, 
Where he at present doth reside." 
In another of his rhyming effusions, enumerating the 
different books he sold, he says — 

" liuC lime would foil ine for to lell 
Of all the goods he has to .sell, 
Sae I niaiin e'en say fare ye well 

At 19 Lawn Streel he docs dwell, 
Sae on him ta'." 
Mr. Andrews carried on the business of shawl manufac- 
turer for many years before his death ; and during this 
period he took an active interest in the Temperance move- 
ment, was long a member of committee of the Paisley Total 
Abstinence Society, and in 1862 was chosen president of 
the society. At more than one temperance celebration of 
the birth of Burns principally arranged by him, he read a 
suitable rhyme composed for the occasion. He was elected 
in 1862 a member of the Police Board, and was one of the 
members of that body who were favourable to and instru- 
mental in getting the Board incorporated with the Town 
Council, an event which took place in 1864. He died on 
19th July, 1869, aged 63 years. He published some of his 
poetry, and I give two pieces as specimens of his muse. 



Knichts of ihe Ihumie, far an' near, 
Unto my lale pray lend an oar. 
It frae your e'e will draw the tear 

Wi' muckle speed. 
As soon's the waefu' lale ye hear 

That Jainie'ii dead. 
O reader, cam he e'er lo Ihec, 
An' winkin' at you wi' his e'e. 
Saying — will tu gie me ae bawbee 

To gel a fikss. 
For whilk ye'd in a moment see 

llim on the grass? 
Or ha'c ye seen him on the street, 
Wi' iwa auld bauchles on his fcel, 
Gaun tuddlin' through the rain and weet 

Like wan 'ring Jew, 
To see gin he wad chance to meet 

A frien' Eiae true 
As bid him come and get a );ilt, 
Or e'en a drink o' nappy yill ? 
For Jamie vveel could drink bis fdl 

O' them, I ire«-. 
And lailh was he 10 ribc until 

He liid gel fuu. 
Or ha'e ye seen him sitiin' crackin' 
In Tammy's tapriKim owre a chappin' ? 
For to keep a' the company lauchiii' 

Ky tcllin' them he brceks wad mak' Ihem 

Without the ctaitb. 
Or ha'e ye ta'en him to yer lianie, 
To mak' claes for ytrsel' or wean ; 
An' bottle by hi> side has lain 


That Jan 



id then 
Micht Lak' a. dfa[ipy.' 


For Jamie wcel could uae ihe ihumlc. 
An' was hl' needli: aye fu' nimle, 
An' ne'er about the price wad grurale 

O' ony job ; 
But aft wad drink until he'd tumlc 

Clean afT the brod. 
But noo, alas ! puir Jamie's gane, 
Like mony mac, to his lang hame ; 
An' in the cauld kirkyard is tain 

Pax a' remeid, 
Nae mair for to return again, 

Sin' he is dead. 
Nae mair about the crosii ye '11 see him, 
Nae mair a bawbee will ye gie him, 
Nae mair his lial he'll gar flee frae him 

Upon the street, 
An' cry — noo Jamie Genimell gic ihein 

The tailor's leap. 
But iioo I maun lay down my pen 
An' to my verses mak' an' en'; 
Whaure'er he's ganc wecl may he feu, 

An' lei ilk chiel 
Unto this prayer say Aiiicn, 

Sae (are ye utel. 

'Twas in ihib town, nul long ago 
{Xl least the newspa]>ers say so, 

Therefore it must be Inie), 
A man did live who hail a wife 
Wlio proved the torment of his life. 

As women often do. 
For she would drink from niorn till uiglit. 
In fact it was her sole delight ; 

Nor did she think it sin 
I lis clothes her " uncle" for to lend, 
Atid then Ihe money go and spend 

On whisky or on gin. 


The keltte, pot, and fiyiiig-pan, 
The washing-tub and wal'ting-can. 

Yea, even the baby's ralllc, 
With knives, and forks, and spoons, and ladle, 
The kitchen chairs, and stools, and table. 

All vanish'd down her ihrapple. 

The clock thai hung against (he wall. 
Likewise the cobbler's last and awl 

Tom us'd to mend his shoes wilh ; 
In fact all that would lifl she took, 
From smoothing iion to chimney •crook. 

To carry on the booze wilh. 

At Imgth one day — alas '. poor Tom — 
After his forenoon's toil went home 

On purpose for to dine, 
Bui urhen he open'd up the door 
His wife was lying on the floor 

"As drunk as David's swine." 

He then dro^'d her into ibe room, 
Aod by the bedside tatd her down. 

Whilst she did kick and sprawl. 
And tho' that she was scarcely tit 
Even lo lie wilhoui a grip 

She loud for more did bawl. 

Poor Tom went out and brought her more. 
And down her throat the same did pour. 

Which finish'd then the booze. 
For she directly fell asleep ; 
Out of (he room then Tom did creep. 

And left her lo her snooze. 

He then sat down and lill'd his pipe. 
Took up a match and struck a light. 

To putf away his cares ; 
Whilst thus engaged in pensive strain 
The door was open'd and in there came 

A Bookman with his wares. 


"Ami here is 'P. 
Likewise "The A 

"Nay, nay," says 
I have a !>etter co] 

The Bookman say 

" Aereed," says T 

Tom then the roon 
And poinling o'er I 

" Behold, 
Who has for ihirty 
The Afflicted Man'; 

The Book 


DAVID GILMOUR is a native of Paisley, and was bom 
there in 1811. He was therefore at his death seventy-eight 
years of age. His grandfather, whose name was William 
Gilmour, was the only son of a non-conforming minister in 
the parish of Mearns, who came to Paisley and built a 
dwelling-house for himself in Carriagehill. Mr. Gilmour's 
father was bom there in 1775, and he also built a house at 
Carriagehill near to the Espedair Bum, and carried on the 
business of a shawl warper. He married Catherine Jardine 
M'Lerie, a grand-daughter of David M'Lerie, weaver in 
Maxweltown, who was fined, in 1 749, in ten shillings sterling 
by Sheriff M'Dowal, for not observing the King's proclama- 
tion for a national thanksgiving, he having worked at his 
trade on that day. (" Hector's Judicial Records of Renfrew- 
shire," first series, p. 147.) Mr. Gilmour's father removed 
to Gordon's Loan, and earned on there the business of a 
warper of webs. 

Mr. Gilmour did not learn any trade, but was employed 
first in the warehouse of John Roxburgh & Son, shawl 
manufacturers ; and afterwards in Robert Kerr's warehouse, 
where he was promoted to be general manager. In 1840, 
he visited the United States of America on business in behalf 
of Mr. Kerr, and in 1851 he commenced business on his 
own account as a shawl manufacturer. This trade he after- 
wards gave up and commenced the business his son is at 
present engaged in— that of a merchant and commission and 
insurance agent in Causcyside Street. In consequence of 
failing health, he, a few years since, went ivith his family to 
reside at Kilmalcolm. 


Mr. Gilmour, in the midst of his business avocations, 
managed to devote a portion of his time to literary pursuits. 
His first prose articles were on " Paisley Manufacturers," 
and appeared in the earlier years of " Chambers's Journal." 
His " Impressions of America," and various other papers 
which he wrote, appeared in different serials of that and a 
later period. But the chief and absorbing interest of his hie 
has been theology, on which subject he has written more 
than on any other. In 1871, he published " Reminiscences 
of the Pen Folk," which was received with great favour by 
the public. In 1876, he published "The Paisley Weavers 
of Other Days," and in 1881 he published a book under the 
title of "Gordon's Loan," These works were held in the 
favourable regard of such men as Dr. John Brown, author of 
" Rab and his Friends," and the late Dean Stanley, who, 
when he visited Paisley, sought out and had an interesting 
interview with David Gilmour. 

Mr. Gilmour, in addition to his prose works, turned his 
attention to some extent to the composing of verses ; but it 
was late in life before he commenced to do so. I well re- 
member meeting him about twelve years ago, for in the con- 
versation I had with him he informed me ihat he had been 
writing poetry and found it to be a pleasant and easy task. 
A few days afterwards, I received from him a leaflet con- 
taining a copy of his poetical piece called " The Riven 
Roof-Tree," from which I shall subsequently give an extract. 
Mr. Gilmour died at Kilmalcolm on i4lh May, 1889. 


Langsyne, when life in ni 
My hcnrt was hale, as 

Wha smiLed and stole my peace fme m 


HcT lightsome step, her rosj' face. 

Her love-lit een and gowden hair, 
Raised hopes and feari 1 durstna breathe, 

Sac mixed were they wi' doubt and care. 

Though auld years gaed ai 

TiU we had ir 

My ihochts aye gaed lo that sweet day 

That frae my breast my peace was stowi) 
I cuiit mybcl' alhorl her way 

That I might Icam my dcstinie — 
Ifshe had gi'en het heart awa,— 

But hopin' she was fancy free. 
That was anither day o' days. 

Thai blest by bailh has been sin' syne, 
She tint her heart while passin' me. 

When I was blest wi' loss o' mine. 
Her roses a' are withered noo. 

Her gowden hair is silver gray ; 
Bat rarer beauties frae her shtne 

Than gtammor'd me that summer day. 


A sweet young wife had a waukrife bairn 

That sprauchlt athort her knee. 
And wadna sleep, though she rockit an' sang. 

Or crooned a lullaby. 
Yet as she crooned an' as she sang, 

Wi' se fool keeping chime, 
The owre-come o' her thochls was aye 

He's sweeter far than weel-prest thyme. 
His faither's foolfa' at the door 

Mak's the lithe bairn turn wi' glee, 
An' loup and rai his buffy hauns 

As bcocht joy lo the faither's e'e. 


tioo, when tlie tang day's dai^ is done. 

An' (hal he is hame lo rest, 
The blyihe young wife, (he faither and baim. 

Are blessedest o' the blest. 
He twined an' tied his faither's beard, 

An' lispt that the knot was " gnin' " ; 
An', lauchin', be cried " Whoa, hup, gee," 

Till they a' laucht lood wi' fun. 
Happy are they wha gang iht^ither 

Wi' stores o' love fnie abnne. 
The sorrow and care o' mortal life 

Need il a' ere the wrastle's dune. 
The laddie dwined awa' belyve 

An' his mither siched an' sighed ; 
But plied him weel wi' gathered yerbs. 

An' mony ither thinp she tried. 
But his bufly haiins an' blulTy cheeks 

Gat sairly pickit an' ihin ; 
An' he turned awa' frae failhcr's beard 

As to touch it were a sin. 
A smile whiles brak' owre the wee pale face. 

But no OS he taucht at e'en ; 
An' tears drappit doon the mither's cheeks 

At the far-awa' luik o' his een. 
Unseen by a', at the slock an' the wa', 

Two angels had core o' the bairn : 
O' mither's tears or faither's fears 

I trow they took sma' concern. 
The Angel o' Death breathi his warm warm breath 

Thro' the strings o' the wee bairn's heart, 
Till they crynt awa', like simmer snaw. 

Sae mither an' boim maun pairt. 
The angels smiled on the wauk'ning lamb. 

An' kiss'd him frae brow lo chin ; 
The Angel o' Life then cairit him up. 

Ah ! Deaih bode still behin'. 


JOHN BARR, son of James Barr, manufacturer, was 
bom in Paisley in 1812. After learning the trade of a 
mechanical engineer, he, along with Andrew M'Nab, com- 
menced business in Paisley as ironfounder and engineer 
under the firm of Barr & M'Nab. They afterwards added 
to their engineering establishment that of building and fitting 
out iron steam vessels. They were an enterprising firm. 
They launched their first steam vessel in r838, and after- 
wards built many similar passenger ships, such as the " Lady 
Brisbane," " Lady Kelbume," " Pioneer," " Petrel," and 
others, all of beautiful design and great speed. The first steam 
engine made in Paisley was built by that firm in 1837, and 
was of twenty horse-power. Misfortunes in business, how- 
ever, overtook them, and John Barr resolved in 1852 to 
emigrate to New Zealand. Before leaving, he was enter- 
tained by his friends at a public dinner. He took up his 
abode at Otago in that colony. 

In 1861, Mr. Barr published a goodly-sized volume of 
" Poems and Songs, Descriptive and Satirical," extending to 
254 pages. I do not know when Mr. Barr commenced to 
culdvate the muse ; but he states in the preface to his work 
that "of the pieces comprised in this little volume, many 
" were composed when the author was busily employed upon 
" his ground clearing with his axe, and many a long and sad 
" thought did they help to beguile both by night and day," 
Mr. Barr is still living. 

The following extracts from Mr. Barr's work will give the 
reader some insight into his poetical powers. Many of his 
pieces possess considerable merit. 

A shill: 
Or puir f< 


Olago goes s 
In countr] 

There's not , 
Beneath |1 

II is indeed i 

The Emer 

There's peae 

With steady 
From dav 



Notwithstanding the poet's great admiration of New 

Zealand, he does not forget his native country, Scotland, 

Wc find him thus feelingly expressing himself — 


Air— "Yc Banks and Brujo' Bonn;r Owb-" 

Now summer comes vi' skies sac clear. 

The hills are clothed vri' verdant green. 
And wild flowers bloom wi' sweet perfume — 

To other's eyes a lovely scene. 
But yet I canna think it's hame ; 

To me it brings nae joy ava, 
For memory turns lo uindin' bums 

And heathery hills that's far awa'. 
Stilt memory clings to youlhfu' scenes, 

When in the blush of dawnin' mom 
I heard the lark's sweet warblin' note 

Far, far abune the wavin' com. 
I see each rill, I hear them still, 

I sec ihe smoke curl through the glen, 
I see each flower by brook and bower, 

In many a bonnie cozie den. 
In memory still I climb the hill, 

And gather berries ripe and sweet, 
I hear the linn's low murmuring din, 

I see it gushin' at my feet. 
I see Ihe purple heather's bloom, 

I see the rained castle grey, 
I see the copsewood in the glen, 

Where oft I pu'd the nut and slae. 
But now I roam in foreign lands. 

And all is changed, as changed can be, 
Nae mair I'll see my failher's ha' ; 

Ah '. all is sadly changed lo me. 
Still, still I ding, with miser care 

To youthful hopes loo brighl lo last ; 
The presenl biil a shadow seem.-. 

) fondly think upon the past. 
South Craigielea, May, i860. 


ANDREW BELFRAGE PICKEN was the second son 
of Ebenezer Picken, one of the earliest of the Paisley poets, 
whose life and works are described at page 62, &c, of this 
volume. Andrew B. Picken was by profession an artist, 
and possessed much of his father's abilities. In 1822, he 
was engaged as private secretary to Sir George M'Gregor, 
who attempted to estabhsh a colony in Foyais, in the 
Mosquito Territory, Central America. This attempt be- 
coming a complete failure, he narrowly escaped from the 
Indians with his life. After many dangers, he was taken as 
a supercargo of a vessel that traded between Honduras and 
Great Britain. On returning from America he tried many 
things to make a living, but was unsuccessful. At one time 
he was engaged in a glass work in the Canongate, Edin- 
burgh ; at another time he appeared as an actor on the stage 
of the Adelphi Theatre, Edinburgh, where he played a 
subordinate part He also came to Paisley along with a 
company of strolling players to perform for a few nights. 
While thus shifting about, he contributed some admirable 
articles to the Calahnia Mercury, such as " Victorine, the 
Mahogany Woodcutter," &c. He afterwards went to New 
York, where he died. 

A. B. Picken was also a poet, and published in 1828 a 
volume, extending to t.\\ pages, entitled "The Bedouins, 
and other Poems," which he dedicated to the Duke of 
Buccleugh and Queensferry. The Bedouin poem consisted 
of three cantos — (i) the desert, (2) the valley of Kashmeir, 
(3) the valley of Schirar. I give two specimens of Mr. 


Picken's iiieces, which exhibit no ordinary degree of poetical 


" Oh ! Lfa hame, and il's hame, k's huac I wad b« ; 
Hunc, hamc. hamc. ro my un CDuntrie."'-CKivffi^^H. 

We sat aJone in a trellbed bower, 

And gaz'd o'er the dark'ning deep ; 
And the holy calm of that twilight hour 
Came over out hearts like sleep. 
And we dreamt of the " banks and bonny braes" 
That gladden'd our childhood's early days. 

And he, the friend at my side that sat. 

Was a boy whose path had gone 
O'er the fields and flowers of joy which Fate, 
Like a mother, hail smiled upon : 
And we thought of the time when our hopes had wings, 
And memory to grief like a syren sings. 

His home had been on the stormy shore 

or Albion's mountain land. 
His ear was tuned to the breaker's roar, 
And he lored the bleak sea sand. 
And the torrent's din, and the howling breeze, 
Rous'd all his soul's wild sympathies. 

They had told him tales of the sunny lands 

That rose over Indian seas, 
Where gold shone sparkling from river sands, 
And strange fruits bent the trees. 
They had lured him away from his childhood's hearth 
With its tones of love and its voice of mirth. 

Now that fruit and those river gems were near, 

And he stray'd 'neath a tropic sun. 
But the voice of promise that thrilled in his car 
At that joyous hour was gone. 
And the hopes he had chased 'mid (he hush of night 
H»d pasied away like the fire-fly's light. 


He murmur'd nul, bul the big tear rcill'd 

From his eye wilh feverish start ; 
Cunsumplioii's hectic plapuc-spot told 
The lale ofa broken heart. 
The boy knew he was dying ; but the sleep 
Of death 15 bliss unto those who weep. 

Oh! I have watch'd bim gaiing long 
Where the homeward vessels lay, 
Chasing sad thoughts wilh some old song. 
And wiping his tears away. 
Ol well I knew that weary breast, 
Like Ihe dove of the deluge, pin'd for resi. 

He died ; but memory's wizard power, 

Wilh its ghosl-like train, had come 
To his dark heart's ruins at thai last hour. 
And he murmured "Home, home, home! ' 
And his spirit passed with a happy dream 
Like a bird in Ihe track of a bright sunbeam. 

O \ talk of Spring to the trampled flower. 

Of light to the fallen star. 
Of glory to those who in danger's hour 
Lie cold on Ihe field of war. 
Bul ye mock the exile's heart when ye tell 
Of aught but the borne where il pines to dwell. 



O chide me nol that I love lo roam 
^Vhere Ihe breaker is flinging its cold while foam. 
And the sea-crag looms o'er my lonely way. 
Like the shadows that fall at the close of day. 
And the cnrlen' wheels o'er the dreary sky. 
And the wind, like a spirit, goes moaning by. 


There's a tone, there's a tone in the breaker's roat 
Which the "song of the charmer" never bore ; 
It seems like a voice from the deep, which tells 
To Ihe young heart-broken a thousand spells. 
And many a spell hath that sound for me. 
Deep, deep, and dirge-like although it be. 

There be hearts, young hearts, where the worm oi 
Hath settled for ever. The sunbeams there 
Would fall, as on crushed spring -flowers, in vain 
They never can smile in their gladness again. 
It b sweel for such weary hearts to pore 
Upon death by the rocks of the lone seashore. 

The many-voiced wind, somelimes I weep 
To list its wild choir swelling on the deep ; 
Its hymns are full of one sad dreary lone, 
Thai finds its echo in my heart alone. 
Meet, meet thai sadness there echo should lind ; 
And thus I love thee, free and reinless wind '. 


ROBERT M'ASLAN was the son of Bailie M'Aslan, 
who had a weaving factory in Gorbals, Glasgow. The 
subject of our memoir carried on business under the firm of 
M'AsIan and Muit, shawl printers, Nethercommon Print 
Works, Paisley, for several years at and after the middle of 
the present century. This trade having become greatly 
depressed, Mr. M'Aslan emigrated to Auckland, New Zea- 
land, where he died several years ago. He received a good 
education at the best schools in Glasgow, and studied be- 
sides at the University there. He possessed a very fine 
literary taste, and also cultivated the muse with much 
success ; and contributed many able poetical pieces to the 
local press, but they were never collected. 


Charily ! of kind Ihoughl the su'eetest mother, 

liending now fondly o'er the fallen one ; 
Pouring fortli love in joy, which may not smother 

The cold, chill feelings which the heart o'cmin, 
Of the world's care begotten ; tears down showering 

From thy smooth cheek bespeak thy soul's deep son 
And thy lips qniver ; the cold and headless lon'ring 

Of the dull eye bul causeth thee to borrow 
New strength and fervour, and thy hand upraised, 

Imploring, poinleth ever to the heaven, 
And oh ! how glad ihy smile when meek hath gazed 

That now dimmed eye with hope lo be foi^ven. 
Much do I love thee, soother of hearts that bleed. 
Raising the bruised— alnnosl broken— reed. 


TO - 

Oh ! deem not tbou my heart is cold, 

Though cotd at times i( seems to thee ; 
Think not I ever cease to hold 

Thee dearest in my memory. 
Oh ! heed not thou what otheis say — 

Though cold to them I seem to be, 
And turn my careless El*nce away— 

" My heart forgets its vows lo thee. " 

I seek not friends ; I would but rest 

Upon thy faithfulness alone. 
In joy or woe, of ihee possessed. 

Life's sweetest hopes could ne'er be gone. 
No thought have I of times to be. 

No wish unio my heart so dear 
Could stir to act, unless, sweet one, 

I still could hope thou wouldst be near. 

No one lo me so dear as (hou. 
My love is more than I can say. 

The deep warm feeling of my youth 
My fondest hopes but thee enfold ; 

Oh ! rest thou on my bosom's truth, 
Ob: (hiok not thou my heart is cold 



W. C. CAMERON was one of Paisley's minor poets, but 
I cannot supply much information regarding him. He pub- 
lished, in 1844, a small volume entitled " Mall Jamieson's 
Ghost; or, the Elder's Dream. Founded on fact. With 
other poems." On the first page of the copy I possess of 
this book of twenty-four pages, there is written in pencil — 
"A curious poem — queer ideas — written by a fireman in 
Blackball Factory — a coarse fellow is the author." The 
story of " Mall Jamieson's Ghost," which occupies the larger 

part of the volume, concludes thus, and this is the only 
extract I take from it : — 

The morning came, and the humble bee 

On heathery hill and flowery lea 

Humm'd gaily past, and the laverock's sang 

Was heard the sunny clouds amang ; 

And the silvery notes of the mavis and WTen 

Came mellow and sweet down the woody glen ; 

Like streams of life the rivulets run, 

And leap for joy in the morning sun ; 

When the Elder jump'd do\*'n from his bed with a scream, 

Crying out — *' Lack-a-day ! what an awful dream." 

The great drops of sweat down his temples did roll ; 

They gave him dry linen all caller and clean ; 
He took a small cordial to settle his soul — 

*Twas rum, but repentance it ought to have been. 

The doctor was called, took a guinea, it seems, 
For this simple prescription — ** Sir, put in the pin, 

If you wish to be freed from such horrible dreams, 
Beware of late suppers, strong liquor, and sin." 

lie told his good lady next evening at tea. 
That while he was living or while he was sane, 

He would ne'er with the star of the poets — that's mc — 
Take mustardless cheese to his supper again. 


JOHN BLACK, surgeon, Glasgow, was a native of 
Paisley ; but I am unable to give the date of his birth, or, 
indeed, any particulars relating to bis life. He resided in 
the east part of Glasgow. He possessed the poetic gift in a 
moderate degree, and published, in 1864, a book, consisting 
of 176 pages containing his poetical pieces, from which I 
extract the following passage, headed 

And u'hen the mortal conflid's o'er. 

When all its cares have fled. 
The generous lears of sympathy 

Fall on the viniiouii dead. 
Could I preserve those precious drops, 

And crystallise each tear, 
I'd prize them more than all the gem^ 

That queens and monarchs wear. 
O'er hearts that feel for other's woes 

These drops, like lamps, would stand 
To light men through life's gloomy path 
To this clear, cloudless land. 

The following is the copy of one of the author's songs in 
the same volume; — 


Air—" Mary of CMlltory." 

A bonny wee rosebud, a bonny wee rosebud, 

A bonny wee rosebud blooms down in yon vale, 
Jult op'ning its bosom, unfolding its blossom. 

Perfuming with fragrance the soft, wandering gale. 
The sunbeams adore it, the wild bees explore it. 

No " cbUl, hoary breeze" dare this rosebud assail. 
Around 1 shall bield it, from storms I shall shield it. 

For mine is the rosebud that blooms in yon vale. 



THOMAS DICK, the date of whose birth I have been 
unable to discover, is another of the minor poets of Paisley. 
He was bom in one of those houses on the south side of 
Maxwelton, where the gardens connected with the dwellings 
extend to Maxwelton Bum. In his book called the " Bum- 
lip" (p. 3) he states — " I had not for a long time looked 
upon the place of my birth, the charming valley of Ferguslie." 
He leamed the weaving trade, and afterwards was a book- 
seller, and a teacher of children in an elementary school. 
Possessing some literary ability, he became a contributor to 
" Whistle Binkie," a book of Scottish song, and the ** Canty 
Chiel." "In 1852, he published a book of 102 pages, en- 
titled ** The Burnlip : a tale of 1826 — containing an account 
of Paisley at that time, with particular notices of the great 
fire at Ferguslie in 1789, the dearth in 1800, and the cap- 
sizing of the Canal passage -boat in 18 10." In 1846, he 
published the ** Temperance Garland,'' consisting of poetical 
pieces by himself. I give a song from the latter, called 
" The Stream that Murmurs," and from the former a piece 
relating to Ferguslie. 


/liV— "Jock o' Hazcldcan." 

The stream that murmurs through the vale. 

Meanders sweetly pure, 
And bathes the flowers that scent the gale 

Around my cottage door. 
The honeysuckle, wreathing high, 

Its shades my window lends ; 
While oft the bee or butterfly 

Its tendril slightly bends. 

«_■ A 


There — while the early lark al mom 

His merry matin sings. 
Or when al eve from yonder thorn 

The ihrush'i vesper rinei — 
There let me meditate, and breathe 

The fragrance Boating round, 
From field of hay, or hill of heath, 

Or woodland copse unbound. 
I ask not power — I ask not wealth, 

Kor worldly rank to find ; 
But temperance lo preserve my health, 

Content to calm my mind ; 
With Piety— meek niaid of heaven !— 

To lift my thoughts above. 
In gratitude and joy be given. 

And universal love. 

My native vale, sweet Fetguslie ! 

Perhaps thy minstrel may not tell 
The tie that binds his soul lo thee. 

But oh ! his heart can feel it well. 
The rambles of his early youth 

Were bounded by thy boundary. 
And all his dreams of love and tnith 

Seem blent in memory with thee. 
The lav'rock, singing o'er thy glade. 

Though distant, still his fancy cheers ; 
And in " thy dark green planting's shade " 

The lintwhite chaunting still he hears. 
The wild bee circling round Ihy heath. 

The wild flower blooming on Ihy lea — 
All, alt will chaim my mind till death ! 

My native vale, sweet Ferguslie ! 



Air-"}ahn Todd' 
I'll awa' home lo my millier, t wilt, 
lit nvra' hame 10 my mither, I will ; 
Sin' e'er I was married, I've been like ane buried. 
But I'll let him see o'l aniiher, I will ! 

The man I hae gotten is no v;orth a preen, 
He keeps me aye workia' Trae morning till e'en ; 
Wi' winding and washing, and habbling and hashing 
A sairer wrought woman there never was seen. 
But Illawa' hame, &c. 

I'm haurl'l and black as an old hoodie craw. 
And plagu'd wi' a wean there's no pleasing ava'; 
Its jisl like himsel' — I'm sure tongue couldna' tell 
The way I'm tormented for aye 'tween the twa. 
But I'll n«-a' hame, kc. 

He's gimin' for ever 'bout this ot "boot that. 
His kait are owre cauld or his brosc arc owre saut ; 
He ripes out the fire— ca's my house tike a byre. 
And there's never a turn I can do bul's a lau'l. 

It I'll ai 

.' hame, &c. 

And when he comes hame on a Saturday e'en, 
A word gin I Hyte or but spear whaur he's been 
He fa's to Ihe tearing, the cursing and swearing — 
I wish that his vile face I never had seen. 
But I'll awa' hame, &c 

Ye lasses unmarried, in time lake advice. 
Keep out Ihe yoke while ye're out, and be wise 
If e'er ye're in chains, yell ne'er rue it but ance, 
Atld that will be a' your life lang, weel I wis". 
But I'll awa' hame, &c. 


W. M'NAUGHTON published one of his poetical 
pieces in the Rmfrewshire Advertiser, on 23rd October, 
1847. Although I am unable to supply any particulars 
relating to him, ytt I bdieve he was one of our local poets, 
for the poetical piece which he published at the period 
mentioned is stated to be " original " and to be written by 
" W. MacNaughton, Paisley." 


Where are the youths and maidens of a hundred years ago, 
Whose hearts were fond and happy as many a dreamer's now ? 
Where are hopes and ftars, the deep an<l sparkling eye. 
The untold love, the t>ounding pulse, the secret bumiof; sitjli? 

Where are the briglit-plumed songsters that gladdcn'd every grove 
With notes of purest melody, replete with rajiturei! love ? 
Where are sweet Flora's beauteous gifts of bright and varied form, 
Which gailj decked old Mother Earth thro' sunshine and tliro' stom 

Where are the mighty rulers of a hundred years ago. 
Who beheld the slavish millions beneath ihoir proud sway bow? 
Where are their pampered minions, their conquering villain bands. 
Whose deeds are writ in human gore on liir and foreign strands ? 

Where are the mountain torrents that dashed so fiercely on ? 
Will the wild waters ne'er return to kiss the poli>hcd stone ? 
Like man's proud race, tliey hurried on thro' many a bluoniing sc 
And onljr by iheir ravages 'tis known (hat ihey have been. 


The same majestic nan which ^one a hundred years ago 
Laughs forth as proudljr o'ei mankind as tho' there were no woe. 
No warn, no crime, no palliy feuds of weak and little men, 
Who make ihis lovely leetning earth a worse than Satan's den. 

Slill is earth's mantle green and bright, her canopy still blue. 
Her streams slill pure, her breece still good, her mysteries still n< 
And sach will be when I am gone beyond ibe reach of woe. 
And sleeping quietly as those of a hundred years ago. 




R. MILLAR, Jiin., who, I believe, was a native of Pais 
ley, was the author of several songs which appeared in th 
" Penny Songster," published in Paisley in 1839. In tha 
periodical, the songs are stated to be original. I am, ho\^ 
ever, unable to give any information regarding the poet, 
have selected two of his songs. 

Music by J. Jaap, Edinburgh. 

O, Mary ! when I speak to thee, 

The blushes do thy cheek adorn, 
An\ clad wi* love's endearing smile, 

Thy face shines like the simmer morn. 
O ! weel I like the simple grace 

That decks thy form so lovely fair ; 
There's only ane that's dear to me — 

The lassie wi' the gouden hair. 

Joy sparkles in thine eye sae bright, 

An' bids dull care an* sorrow flee ; 
Love's sweetest transport cheers my breast, 

And lights the heart that beats for thee. 
Love's hours of bliss will sweetly pass 

If I through life such pleasures share, 
I hope to live and die wi' thee, 

The lassie wi' the gouden hair. 

Music BY J. Jaap. 

In anguish she weeps, for her bright joys are fled ; 

Alas ! I hear her tenderly sighing. 
She weeps as she stoops o'er the home of the dead. 
And fresh blooming garlands of roses doth spread 

O'er the green turf where Ronald is lying. 


Thai hern i^ fallen nhn conquprod (he foe, 
IIi>i brave dciik nre imnolefi in Mory, 
No laurels of iriumph encircle hU brow. 
But, sliipt of hU armour, llie brave soldier nov 
Neath ihe battle sod sleeps in his glory. 

They are [Mrted who vowed lo l>e faithful and true. 

That bright morning in sueelness was shining. 
When swift as a dart to the battle he flew. 
But scarce could her hand wave a parting adieu, 

For fear with her hope was combining. 

She rushed to the spot where her brave Ronald fell. 

But his bright eye no longer was beaming, 
Now mute was his tongue, it no longer could tell 
The feelings he breathed as he sighed his farewell, 
While the blood from his bosom was streaming. 

Though the patriot's (ire in his bosom dwell. 

Yet with love, lo ! that bosom was glowing ; 
Though his prowe-s of arm the enemy fell, 
^'et his heart for fair t^llen could tenderly melt. 
The best fruits of true love bestowing. 

Though the slumbers of night hei from anguish may s: 

Yet her tears stream afresh on ihe morrow ; 
ller hopes with her Konald are laid in the grave, 
And no longer shall dawn the bright tear-drop to lave 
Nor shall joy gild the tiark brow of sorrow. 

He rests 'mid the stillness of death ^ gloomy nighl, 

He rests, a lone hero forsaken ; 
No longer his sworti shall in battle gleam bright. 
Nor war's sounding trumpet that called to (he fight 

Shall the soldier's la:>t slumber awaken. 


R\:\\ VVA'V.K TIIOMSOX uas l)orn at No. 66 HI, 
Street, Paisley, on ist June, iSio. His father, Mr. Jol 
Thomson, was a native of Alva, and came to this town wh 
seventeen years of age. Mr. Peter Thomson, after receivi 
the earlier part of his education at the Paisley Gramnn 
School, completed his studies for the Gospel ministry 
Glasgow University. Some time after receiving his license 
preach, he was ordained in the Middle Church, Paisley, to 
a charge at Barhurst, Canada, where he remained for abc 
four years. On returning home, besides acting as assists 
to the Rev. Mr. Duncan, Culross, for several years, he ^ 
always ready, when not engaged, to officiate for clergym 
who, through any circumstance, required aid in the dischai 
of their clerical duties. Mr. Thomson, who never marrie 
died on 24th September, 1885, in the same dwelling 
which he was born, leaving his younger sister there as t 
last surviving member of the family. His remains w< 
interred in Paisley Cemetery. Mr. Thomson consecrat 
some of his leisure hours to the muse, and his poetii 
emanations, of which I give a few, frequently found th 
way into the local press of the day. 



Hush ! hush ! be still ! 
Most gently close the door, 
Tread softly o'er the floor ; 
He is dying fast, 
He is near his last, 


A few brief 
And he is gone. N( 
Will he be as before. 
A good year he has been 
Much of joy did he bring 
Many friends did he give 
We would he wouU 
But ihis thing cam 
As wc do plainly see ; 
He musi go hence away, 
Without much of delay, 
Else we would have hini 


Huiih! hush! beslill: 
Lei the door be closed, 
Walk soflly as proiio.M:d ; 

He Is 

. end. 

Not long ere he depart. 
His pulse is low at heart, 
His breathing far apart. 
Were we, as he, to do to us 
A« now is done by him lo m, 
He with patience wait oji us. 
He would be loth to pari with 
But this thing could not be. 
Most clearly he would sue ; 
We must go hence away. 
And that without delay, 
Else he might have us stay. 


Hush! hush! beslill! 
E'en ycl be closed Ihe door. 
Move slowly as before. 

At last he i 


His spirit is flown ; 
He wonld no longer stay. 
But would go hence aaay. 
Without the least delay. 


No longer need we wait on him, 

Our dot]' now is dune lo him, 

No burial is required for him, 

Or else we sure would bury him. 

We bid him now farewell ; 

We would that one could tell 

What is the kind of year 

Has come up at the rear ; 

Let hopes the best us cheer. 

Paisley, December, 1866. 

Ah ! he is gone, of him we thus would speak— 
He was a worthy man, both good and kind 
As husband, parent, relative and friend ; 
A pastor faithful, zealous in his work. 
His flock he loved, by them he was beloved. 
Within God's vineyard long he honoured was 
To labour there, successfully withal. 
His work now done, he's gone to his reward. 
All honour to his memory ! we say. 
We also say — Pence to his ashes be I 
On those in office still his manlle fall, 
A? instruments of God for good to men ; 
In time 10 come, more faithful may they be. 
More zealous, too, than heretofore they've been. 
To those bereaved. Himself God comfort send ; 
A pastor send, His servant's place to hll. 

Duration's measure how do we compute? 
By Icnns well known, most definite, minute. 
'Tis thus we count — a second, first we say, 
A minute, hour, and then we say a day, 
A week, a month, and then we say a year 
Vear add to year till lime doth disappear. 


A second of time, how brief is its space ! 

A minute — how brief !— which comes next in place, 

I low brief an hour ! — though *tis many times more 

Than is the brief minute mentioned before. 

Brief space is a day ! a week a brief space ! 

A month much longitude doth not embrace I 

Long seems a year from beginning to end. 

But long 'iwill not seem when it we do spend. 

Years put together, how short they appear ! 

The farthest remote e'en seems to be near. 

Long, long ago, the first second was told. 

And yet, even yet, it doth not seem old ; 

The last, when it shall have come and have fled, 

How quick Time itself shall seem to have sped I 

The shortness of time, would we know aright ? 
The lessons it teaches, learn from its flight. 
At longest 'tis short, and soon it shall end I 
Its space, all so brief, aright let us spend ! 

Ay, let us spend it in active employ. 
In duty to God, that we may enjoy 
His grace, which is life, a blessing so rare, 
His mercy, than life which is better far. 

Thus spending our time, how happy we'll be 
As it glides along, how joyous and free ; 
More happy we'll be when with us 'tis o'er. 
And we shall have reached Eternity's shore. 

That thus we may spend it, Go<l give His g^ce. 
His mercy, too, give, that wc may eml)racc 
Kach fitting season as it passcth by, 
In view of a long, blest Ktcmity. 

Paisley, 1865. 


JOHN M'INTYRE was a native of Paisley, and was 
born in 1811. He was a warper to trade, but I cannot 
discover much more regarding his life. In 1850, he published 
in pamphlet form twelve " Favourite Songs;" and in 1854 he 
published a volume of poetry and prose of 1 28 pages, entitled 
" The Emigrant's Hope : a collection of Articles in prose 
and verse, together with a number of original pieces con- 
tributed by literary and poetical acquaintances — men of 
ability and talent — whose names have been before the public 
these many years." Included in this volume are the most 
of the pieces that appeared in the publication of 1850, By 
far the greater number of the poetical pieces are written by 
M'lntyre himself The other contributors were James 
Yool, A. M'Kay, Hugh Macdoiiald, J. M'Lardy, William 
Murdoch, "W. M.," "A New Yorker," and " Erin-go- 
Bragh." In the preface to this book, M'lntyre makes the 
following statement : — 

" In thus placing himself so conspicuously before the 
public, it is the author's dt'sire to offer a little explanation 
to the reader as to his reasons for taking up such a position. 
First, then, a change in his circumstances, coupled with bad 
health and a difficulty of procuring employment for more 
than six months in the year, are the main causes. In looking 
to emigration as a means of bettering his condition, he is 
only doing that which thousands have done before him. It 
has been remarked by some kind friends, whose advice he 
is proud to acknowledge, that, considering his age, the 
chances in a new country are much against him. This he 
is ready to admit, for in every exertion to be made in the 
great battle of life youth will always be found to have the 
advantage ; but of this he is at least certain, that however 


poor the prospect may be for him in a foreign land, his 
prospects in remaining at home are still more dark. These 
considerations, and these alone — not the vanity of appearing 
in print — have induced him to decide, if successful, on 
leaving the place of his birth." 

John M*Intyre, never having emigrated, died at the Half- 
way House, Paisley and Glasgow Road, on 31st January, 


Sweet is the balmy breath o* spring when winter is awa*, 
As through the woods it softly comes where scented blossoms blaw. 
When hedges a' are green again, and birds sing joyously ; 
. Yet sweeter than the breath o' spring was my true love to me. 

How sweet in summer's sultry noon, when he was sitting by. 
To hear the lark 'mang siller clouds far in the sunny sky. 
Or gaze in silence and content upon the calm, blue sea ; 
Yet sweeter far than summer's bloom was my true love to me. 

Oh ! there is happiness on earth when hopes are fair and young. 
And words that tell o* first fond love yet linger on the tongue ; 
A joy that fills the guileless breast and gushes frae the e'e. 
And dearer far than light or life was my true love to me. 

But fortune frown'd. His manly heart reverses wadna' staun*. 
We parted ; 'twas his fate to dee far in a distant Ian' ; 
They say amang the brave he fell and nane to close his e'e ; 
And dearer far than light or life was my true love to me. 

Nae mither's arm was round him there as fainter still he grew, 
Nae freenly hand to dight the damp frae aff his bonny broo, 
Nae kindly ane to hear him sigh, or mark his spirit flee, 
That night upon the cauld, cauld earth my hapless love frae me. 

Awa' wi' glory and renown, their names I canna' bear. 
The cause o' many an orphan sigh and many a widow's tear. 
To bleeding, broken hearts like mine they dinna' pleasure gie ; 
He sleeps upon a bluidy field far far frae hame and me. 



On board oF a bark, in the deepest emotion, 

An emigrant sigh'd at the close of the day ; 
Fast fell his tears as he gazed on the ocean. 

That danced in the beams o' the sun's parting ray. 
Land of my childhood' ! now that we sever, 

Ne'er to mine eyes were thy woodlands so fair, 
Mild was the flow of my own native river, 

Scotia, my hame, I will ne'er see ye mair. 

Lands o' the sun, ye may boast o' your pleasure. 

Sweet your perfume's on the breest o' the wave ; 
Stem independence is Scotia's treasure. 

Sad is her heart wi' the wails o' the ^lave. 
The sons of the north, in their moss-covered dwelling, 

Freedom inhale with their own mountain air ; 
Voices I hear on the night breezes swelling, 

Hame o' my heart, I will ne'er see ye mair ! 

Land o' my kindred, so famous in story, 

Factions and foes thou hast ever defied, 
Unchanged in thy worth and untarnished in glory. 

Land for whose freedom my fathers have died. 
France may rejoice in her gay sparkling fountains, 

Italy boast of her gardens so rare, 
Dearer by far are your snow-covered mountains, 

Scotia, my hame, I trill ne'er see ye mair ! 



ROBERT CLARK was a son of Robert Clark, weaver 
in Paisley, and was born in Castle Street, 30th May, 181 1. 
He was for only a short time in the school of Mr. Peacock, 
Sandholes, and had got the length of reading in the New 
Testament when he was taken from school, being nearly six 
years old, and put to the " drawing " of webs. Afterwards, 
he learnt the trade of weaving. He taught himself to read, 
having mostly forgotten what Peacock gave him, and he 
went also to a night school and learned to write. He 
married in 1832, but his wife died in February, 1836. In 
that year he emigrated to America, and after remaining there 
five years he returned to Paisley to benefit his health, for he 
had been suffering from ague. He resumed his work at the 
loom, and kept an eating-house besides. The failure of 
the potato crop in 1847 greatly depressed the trade of the 
country, and Clark, like many others, found great difficulty 
in procuring work, and he therefore resolved to return to 
America. The vessel in which he sailed to America was 
wrecked, and all on board were sunk to the bottom of the 
Atlantic Ocean. He was at that time about thirty- si.x years 
of age. 

Though he received, as already mentioned, little education 
in his youth, he afterwards became very fond of reading, 
thereby acquiring a considerable amount of information ; 
and he devoted his leisure hours, besides, to the study and 
writing of poetry. One of his earliest pieces of poetry, *' The 
Bonny Lass of Lugton Inn," was composed in 1828, when 
he was only seventeen years of age. In 1836, he published 
a number of poetical pieces under the title of " Original 
Poetical Pieces, chiefly Scottish." In 1842, he published 
another collection of his poetry, embracing some of the 


pieces in the edition of 1836, extending to 36 pages, under 
the title of " Random Rhymes." I have selected the two 
following from his book. The first one, " Rhyinin' Rab," it 
was alleged, was a pretty good description of himself. 


Doun by, neiir our smiddy, there lives 1 queer boddie 

As couthie an' cnnty'^ the liimmcr day's lang, 
An auld funny story scls him in his glory, 

Kor aft he knockb it into .some ]illhy sang. 
Tho' aye ha'flins modest , his craclts are the oddest 

That ever were heard ihro' the hale kintra roun'. 
Aye lauld alTsae freely, sae pawky, an' slecly — 

He's far and near kent, Rhymin' Rab o' our loun. 
Tho' deep read in pages o' auld langsyne sages, 

As meikle's michi mnist turn (he poics o' us a'. 
Sent soon to the shuttle, his schule -craft's but little, 

Vet auld mither Nature him kindness did shaw. 
Wi' first glinl o' morning he's up, slumber scorning, 

Enraplur'd to hail ilk melodious souii' ; 
Whar clear ivimplin' bumie trols slow on its journey, 

Yc're sure there to see Rhymin' Rab o' our loun. 
When e'en but a younker, he'd cour in a bunker 

Wi 's beult, daft gaffaweri to mix na' amang ; 
It pleasi him lar belter than gouk's sillic clallcr. 

The deeds a' ourgutchers in auid Scottish sang. 
When e'ening's cluils fa'in', an' cauld win's are blawin', 

His fireside's the shelter o' ilk b^gar loun ; 
W'i' kimmer or carle he'd share liis last farle — 

A warm-hearted chiel's Rhymin' Rab o' our loun. 
He's free o' dcceivery, the basest u' knavery, 
An's blithe aye the lace o' a cronie to see ; 
W'i' him the king Mouler, mysel', an' the Souler, 

Ha'e often forgalhcr'd an' had a bit spree. 
There's naelliing we crack o' but lie has the knack o' 
When we owre the sloup an' the cappie sit doun ; 
Tho' ehiels we've had clever, [he equal we never 
Had yel o' Ihi.t bauld Rhymin' Ral) o' our loun. 



Ance inair, dearest Cartha, in Spring's gcnile clutliiDg 

Iliy bankings Are cbd, how delightful to see ; 
Yel ft' its gay verdure, e'en there ivad seem naetbing 

To me were afar frae it Jeannie's black e'e. 
Amang the green hushes whar sweet Levem rushes. 

Like love to thy bosom, near CruiUsion sae hie, 
When eve's gently stealing noon's lay frae oui shealin£, 

I'll catch Ihere the blink o' her bonnie black e'e. 
O then to my bosom my soul's sweetest treasure 

Sae fondly I'll clasp 'neath the green spreading tree. 
Even angels will envy the moments o' pleasure 

That pai>$ while I gaze on hei bonnie black e'e. 
Sae giacefu' by nature is this chaimiog crealure, 

Her modesty vies wi' the flowers oti the le> ; 
May life's latest e'ening shed forth its last gloaming 

O' bliss frae the blink o' het bonnie black e'e. 


JOHN FRASER was bom at the Parliament Stairs, 
Edinburgh, on 15th August, 1812. His father, of the same 
name, was at that time in very comfortable circumstances. 
He was manager of a lime work ; but circumstances taking 
an unfavourable turn, he was seized with a lowness of spirits, 
and became unfitted for following that occupation any longer. 
The future poet's mother being persevering and prudent, 
started business as a grocer. His father worked as a 
gardener. In 1819, Eraser was sent lo school, but making 
no progress, except in being able to sing more songs and 
whistle more tunes than any of the other scholars, he was 
taken from it and sent to work in a type foundry when only 
nine years of age. When there, he learned the song of 
"The Bonnie Wood o' Craigielea." Restates — "I never 
knew its author; but loved it above every song of the 
hundred I could sing." He was again sent back to school 
in 1822, and became a successful scholar. 

In passing a bookshop near to the old Tron Church, he 
saw a copy of Tannahill's poems in the window and bought 

In 1823, he went to serve in a tobacconist's shop, and 
after being there for a time he left to learn shoemaking. By 
this time he must have been courting the muse, for he says 
— " Week after week found me seeking the fairy scenes of 
the modest Esk, the haunts of Roslin, the beauties of Haw- 
thomden, the ruins of Craigmillar, the rural quiet of 
Colinton, the green -foli aged heights of Corstorphine Hill, 
the monumental piles of the Calton, the antiquated rL'mains 
of Saint Anthony's Chapel, and the sequestered windings of 

45*5 rAisixv I'oETS. 

Uiiddingston." He says he never studied poetry as an art or 
science ; " I gave it as ihe muse gave it me." 

Soon after he became a journeyman, he removed 
from Edinburgh to Paisley, and enjoyed the change. This 
would be about 1830. He published there a collection of 
his poetical pieces, and disposed of the edition of 500 copies 
in four weeks. In 1852, he pubU shed another edition of his 
poetry, with additional pieces, entitled " Poetical Chimes, or 
Leisure I^ys ; " also a Scottish national i)lay, in three acts, 
entitled "King James V., or the Gipsy's Revenge." The 
volume consisted of 192 pages, duodecimo, and was dedi- 
cated by permission to the Duke of Argyll. 

John Fraser worked, Mr. J. S. Mitchell stated in a lecture 
on "The Poets of Paisley," which he gave in November, 
i8S?, at the shoe trade in Paisley, and latterly, before he left 
the town, sewed belts at the mill of Messrs. J. & P. Coats. 
While so engaged, he met witli an accident in helping to 
put on the bells in the morning. His companion was killed, 
and he had his shoulder dislocated. Mr. Mitchell further 
stated that he had lost sight of Fraser for some time, but 
knew him last as a lecturer on phrenolog)'. 

^<V — "UliTt nells o' Sdollliid." 
Dark gitii'ring cioiuls sank 'nealh lliu weslem horiion 

When a Call j-oulh np|)roach'd, slcrn hate niark'd his brow. 
And he groan 'd, as his fix'd eyes lo heaven he was raising — 

My dear Ciledonia I Uiy Wallace shall vow ! 
I5ear Scolland ! [iroiid Eduaril desire-* lo oppress ihcc ; 

His minions arc ■^enl lo the banks of sweet Ayr. 
Ilasle, make Ihy swords gleam, let not tyrants distress Ihce ! 

Thy Wallace shall free thee, this vow I now s«-ear. 
My poor bleeding Scotland ! l!ic cuckoo, for shellcr, 

Leaves India's balni'd fragrance lo sing on Ihy shore, 
Willie daslani nsurjicrs now make ihee lo welter ; 

Thy once blooming sons now slccji low in Iheir gore. 


T]\Q c:)'^\c rctiics to n li'>!nc in lh\- lU' 'Uiit.iin-, 

I lie il'W -I. Ilk, in IrcC'i'jni, miv'^ >-v\-ccl in lii\' L:lcn>, 

'1 he gulil-spaiigrd trout dances free in thy fountains, 
The doe, hart, and roe bound in peace to thy dens. 

Then on, on, ye Scots ! heed not terror degrading. 

Shall dogs touch the lamb when the dam's bleating near ? 
Shall tyrants the red lion's den be invading, 

Enchaining the brood, when the strong ones are there ? 

No, no ! cried the youth, and his arm high he raised, 
And he grasp'd his great sword, unnumbered its slain. 

Then Scotia stood free ! She smiled, wondered, and gazed, 
And Bannockbum proved that his vow was not vain. 

Then quick, strike your harps, ye bards, Caledonia ! 

See, Freedom is weeping 'neath tyranny's chain ; 
Stand firm to your rights, your armour haste on ye, 

That freedom that conquer'd can conquer again ! 



^/r — "The morn is the day I gang awa*." 

They tell me for to gang abroad. 
And win great riches o'er the sea ; 

My friends are gaun, sair griefs they lead, 
For lonely now they're leaving me. 

Whaur could I see the thistle grow 
Sae sweet as on its native throne ? 

To gentle breezes waving low — 
How can I leave thee, Caledon ! 

O Caledon ! dear native shore ! 

Our fathers bled to keep thee free ; 
They sought not gold, content their store, 

Then Caledon my home shall be. 

Then o'er thy heather I will roam, 
Where gowans tint thy dewy lea ; 

Thou land of song ! the minstrel's home ! 
I ne'er could love a home but thee. 

F I 


When time shall seek my lalest lay. 
Then let me sine it o'er thy hills, 

Where 1>ouniiing woodlands sweetly play 
To echo frae thy bonnie rills. 

I^t Peruvians dig for diamonds deep. 
Let Aastralia have its wealth for me, 

I^ave California gold to keep — 
But Caledon my home shall be. 


^/r — "Ltj RiK.' 

Now Autumn lint4 ui' gowd the plain. 

And wee birrl^ hap frae ilka tree, 
O ! come and spend a day our lane. 
And taMe ihc snceU o' Ulcnfielii Lea. 
O'er Fulton's knowes, nhere wild -(lowers grow, 

And clear springs filter frae the linn. 

And o'er the cliffs the clear streams row, 

Ileneath the braes the burnies rin. 

Now Autumn tints wi gowd the plain, &c. 

O ! haste and see yon soaring l.irk. 
His wings sac swcctiy wat wi' dew, 

How slrnight he monntN o'er Thonily Park- 
Celestial clouds he's wailing through. 

lilest bird ! he's at (he heavenly gale, 
Ilis willing offspring :.ang to gie. 

Then a >craph'j note, ,-yne wait 
And sing it o'er on Cllonfield Lea. 

Now Autumn lints wi' gowd the plain, &e. 

The mavis down in I/iunsdale Wooii 

His swcel love to his male he tells, 
In sacred note- he siiigb aloud, 

Awak'ning echoes in llic dells. 


Tlie linlie sin^g hia ling'ring noles, 
The muuc swells Trae bird and bee, 

And sweetly [hrill yon hillside cuts — 
The rural blisi o' Glenfield Lea. 

Now Autumn tints wi' gowd the plaii 

We'll wander down yon brambly glens 
When silver moon relieves the sun. 
Rejecting shadows in the fens 

w'ring heights o' Craigie Linn. 




To rumbling surges echoing free, 
In murmurs hissing down ihe plain. 
Then bounding back Trae Glenfield Lea. 

Now Autumn tints wi' gowd the plain, &c 

The gowden fields, in silent notes, 

Invite the calm and balmy still ; 
The rip'ning fruii, ihe wht-ai and oats. 

Draw praise lo Him the barns that fill. 
The minslrel sings his evening song, 

While gratefu' tears start frae his e'e ; 
Ve Fates ! lill time wi' me is gone, 

Grant sweet retreats in Glenfield Leo. 

Now Autumn tints wi' gowd (he plain, &c 


JOHN LORIMER was bom in Paisley on 9th June, 
181 2. Mr. Lorimer's grandfather was for some time Provost 
of Sanquhar, Ayrshire, and was for thirty years a magistrate 
in that town. Mr. Lorimer's father, Mr. Alexander Lorimer, 
came to Paisley in 1801, and entered the town's English 
School as an assistant to Mr. James Peddie. In 1807, on 
the retirement of Mr. Pool, he was installed as assistant 
classical master in the Grammar School, and he continued 
in that situation till his death on 12th October, 1831. Mr. 
Lorimer, through the position held by his father, received a 
tirst-class education. He commenced business at loz 
High Street as a cloth merchant, having succeeded Mr. 
\Villiam Stirling there ; and several years afterwards he gave 
up that business and went to Alloa to act for a shipping 
company. In 1845, when I resigned the Town Chamber- 
kinship of Paisley to commence business on my own 
account, Mr. Lorimer was elected by the Town Council to 
that situation, and held it till 1854, when he became the 
head of the counting-house department of Messrs. J. & P. 
Coats. He remained with them till his death, which took 
place at his dwelling-house, Braeside Cottage, Millarston, 
on 13th October, 1878. Mr. Lorimer never married. 

Mr. Lorimer had a great taste for music, and for upwards 
of a quarter of a century look a leading part in the Paisley 
Musical Association. It was only a few months before his 
death that he retired from the i)ost of conductor. At his 
death, the minutes of the association record that it was 
impossible to find words to express the feelings of the 


associalioij regarding the loss they had sustained, and that 
it was extremely difficult to state how much they liked him, 
and also to state how greatly his heart was bound up in the 
Musical Association. The ladies also of the association 
testified their grateful regard for his memory by sending a 
letter of condolence to his sisters and obtaining their consent 
to place wreaths of flowers upon his coffin. From Mr. 
Lorimer's great amiability, obliging manner, and modesty, 
he was liked by every one. In early life he learned to play 
on the fiddle ; and through much practice and his theoretic 
knowledge of music, he became an expert and tasteful 

Mr. Lorimer's taste for music led him also to become a 
wooer of the muse, and I give here specimens of his lyric 
poetry, which fully show the genuine good humour he 
possessed, and how well he could express his feelings, I 
have more than once heard Mr. Lorimer, in a private com- 
pany, sing these songs, to my delight and the delight of 
every one present. 



The Kilties are the Imls fur me, 
They're aye ihe foremost in a spree, 
An' when they're in they'll no come out 
'I'hough a' the worlil should (urn ibout. 
They're no the laii-L »ill rin ana', 
They fecht while Ihey h.i'e breath to draw. 
Just tell them whaar to meet the foe, 
And lihoulher tae iihouthei awa' Ihey go. 

Hurrah for a' the kilieil lad>i, 

\Vi' iheir latlan plaids an' H-hite cockades ; 

Just set them doon before the foe, 

And shouther lae shoulher aivay ihey go. 


O, iiha can maldi ihem in the ranks 
J'ur liiirly lirtAsls ami ilurdy shanks? 
Or wlia daur meet ihem in Ihe del'. 
Or face iheir deedly raw a' sleel ? 
A thoosand o' your feckless loons. 
That wear the breeks and leevc in toons, 
Wad flee awa' whene'er they saw 
A score o' Kilties in a raw. 
Hurrah, &c. 

Noo, there's the Royal Forty-t»a, 
They care fur naether frost nor snaw. 
The rain may pour, the win' may bUw 
An' a' the lichtnins bleeic awa'. 
But aye they're foremost in the fry, 
Stan' Dot the road an' let ihem bye, 
Or, fegs ! ye'U gel a doie o' lead 
Will gar ye dance wi' heels owre head. 
Hurrah, kc. 

The Kilties gaed to help the Turks 
Wi" a' their [lislols, guns, and dirks ; 
Itui when their bagpipes gied a bliw. 
The Tutkiea fainted clean awa'. 
Their lassies, too, an' wives sae queer — 
'ITiey werena' like our lassies here— 
They buckled up their e'en wi' clouts. 
As if our Kilties had been brutes. 
Hurrah, &c. 

At Alma, when the shot and stiell 
Were sonnding many a soldier's knell, 
. When bravest hearts drew liack aghast 
Hefore the dense and tleadly blast. 
Sir Colin, wi' his killed clan, 
Came bounding furwani to llic van — 
" Hurrah," he cried, wi" voice sae clear, 
" The kilted lads arc wanted here." 
llunah, &c. 


" Noo, a' ye raiilin(;, roaring chifls. 
That like the mounUin ilew sae wee), 
Rin up and prog them wi' your steel 
As sune's ye hear the bagpipes squeel. 
lilaw up your pipes wi' michl and main, 
Allhoujjh you nu'er aliouki (jruiit again, 
And when they're frichted at the blaw. 
Draw oot your dirks and al them a'." 
Hurrah, &•:. 

Sir Colin waved hi^ sworJ on liigh, 
Then wi' a wiki, unearthly cry 
Up rushed the Kilties 10 the Ibe 
And fell'd a nutn at every blow. 
Owre horses, men, and guns they speiled. 
And clear'd the Russians frae the field, 
While far and near uprose their cheer 
Alinon the pibroch sounding clear. 
Hurrah, Ac. 

The Russian General, when he saw 
Our Kilties chase his men awa'. 
Cries out—" Does any mortal ken 
Whether they're wild beasts or men ? " 
Sir Colin cries — " Come here, my man. 
And I will tell, for weel I ran. 
The kiltctl lads are just," he says, 
" Our horsemen's wives in Sunday claes." 
Hurrah, &c. 

Sir Colin Campbell kent fu' weel 
The Ninety-third were true as steel, 
When up he drew them in a raw 
At Balaclava, kills and a'. 
The Russian horsemen charged ihcni then. 
Our " horsemen's wives " stood up like men. 
And gicd them sic a dose o' lead 
That a' ran afftliat wenia' dead. 
Hurrah, &c. 


But, och I nae mair weMl fecht ava', 
The waefu' peace has spoilt it a', 
It's garred the Kilties lose their wark, 
And ne'er a lad maun draw his dirk. 
But a' our wives and women folk 
Wi' perfect joy are like tae choke ; 
O ! they'll get mony a hearty smack 
When the gallant Kilted lads come back. 

Hurrah for a' the kilted lads, 

Wi' their tartan plaids and white cockades ; 

Just set them doon before the foe, 

And shouther tae shouther away they go. 


Air — "I'm owre young to inaiT>' yet." 

I'm ower auld, I'm ower auld, 
I'm owre auld to marry now ; 

Sac late in life to court a wife, 
Would just be to miscarry now. 

I meet the lassies here an' there. 

But ne'er a ane '11 wed, ava ; 
At kirk or market, tryst or fair. 

They laugh an' only answer " Na." 
I canna tell how lang a while 

I fought it out wi' Jean M*Craw ; 
Her cunning smile did me beguile, 

But she was just as ill's them a'. 

An' then she tauld that I was baUl, 
An' ower auld to marry now. 

The folks would jeer if she would e'er 
Tak' up wi' sic a wirrycow. 

I ance forgathered wi' a lass — 

A blythe and bonny lass wa:> she — 

An' I, just like a stupid ass, 
Thocht love was beaming in her c'e. 


I speer'd ai her ae cannie nicht 
Gin ever she could fancy me. 
" Gae 'wa'," luo' she, " you're jusl k Tricht, 
A tattie-bogU lu my e'e. 

" Ye're ower auld, ye're ower aulil, 

Yc're ower auld lo marry me ; 
Ere I would wed as auld's my dad, 
I'd siring mysel' up on a Iree." 
I met wi' Kteg at Coltnslay fair, 

An' cofl her a braw backlin' kame. 
An' then oot ower Kilbimie muir 

I started to convoy her hame. 
Hut just as Vie got out the town, 

Her cousin Johnnie's can was there. 
" Guid nicht, an' thanks," quo' she, " guden: 
But Jock '11 tak' m« ome the muir. 
" Ye're ower auld, ye're ower auld, 

Ve're ower auld tae marry me. 
My grannie's but a younkei yet. 
An' aiblins you an' her micht gree.'* 

An' stupidly my name I signed ; 

But, tho' ihe w 

Noc offer cam' o' ony kind. 

Except frae ane— a drucken ihief— 

That ca'd hersei' Rebecca Lyie, 

An' swore she would be mine for life 

As soon as she got out o' jail. 

Thinks I, I'm auld, I'm rather auld, 

I'm ower auld to marry now ; 
Dm autd or young I'd eat my tongue 
Or I would marry sic a frow. 

Awcel, it madness seems to me 
To fcchl wi' sic a heidless preen ; 

Wlial signifies a wife to me? 
I carena' that ' for ony queen. 

' Snap of the lingers. 


A liachelor'ii the king o' men. 

An' Humen follis are bat a pesl 
A guki ane's seen hut now and Ihcn, 
They're glaikel cutties al Ihe best. 
I'm o«er aulJ. Im o«-er auld, 

I'm ower lutd to marry now ; 
To court a wife »e late in lile. 
Would juhl be 10 miscarry now. 


lie sighed not then for glory, 
For the day had been won ; 

And his life-blood was ebbing, 
And his race nearly run. 

,poke n, 

then of battle, 
Tho' he knew it was gained ; 
Itul oil '. his thoughts were happy, 
lie never once coro]ilained. 


n his n; 

And in the hour of death 
llu spoke of her and hless'd her 
Even with liis patiiiig lireath. 

Thn>' liattle and thro' blood. 

They held o'er him the likeness 
Ofhor-so fondly lov'.i, 

And his fc.ilures told how truly 
His noble soul was mov'd. 


A»d hi 

Mv of Idvc « as starting 
n his eye all the while, 

%Vith a last dying smile. 


Lei every roan liU up his can. 

And listen lo my dilty ; 
If any one don't like my song. 

Why then, the more's Che pily. 
And I'll tell you now, my boys, as how 

Wc sail'd the Ala!>ainiL 
O'er every sea from Miramichi 

To the Isthmus of Panama. 

For we swept the main from north to south 

from England to Bahama ; 
But never a Yankee man-of-war 

Would meet the Alabama. 

'Twas Dickey- Sam that charter'd us. 

And paid down all the rhino. 
And tvE loaded coals for Jericho, 

With leave lo call at China. 
O, Ihe Yankee consul did look blue. 

And he was mighly fluster'd. 
When we clear'd our ship for Tiiiibuclon 

With a manifeiil of mustard. 

And we swept, &c. 

-So off lo sea away went wc, 

And westwards of the Shannon 
We dug fur coal down in our hold 

And there we found our cajinon. 
Atoft our flag nc then unfurl'd, 

And loud we chcer'd and louder. 
As we challeng'd all Ihe Yankee world 

To come and smell our powder- 
And we swept, 4c- 

We had not sailwl far till right 

Down thro' the water learliig, 
A blustering Yankee hove in sight, 

Full on our (juartcr bearing. 



One shot we sent him, jast for fan ; 

My timbers ! what a fluster! 
Dow n came his banting by the nin. 

And ofif went all his bluster. 

Thus we swept, &c 

Our captain was as brave a man 

As ever box'd the compass. 
And all our crew were firm and true 

And up to every rumpus ; 
Our ship ran fifteen knots an hour, 

And never a screw or paddle 
If once it came within our sight 

Was able to skedaddle. 

Thus we swept, &c. 


I saw her on that very day my slighted troth was spumed, 
I knew not at the moment that my tide of life had tum*d. 
Her smiles were bright and beautiful as they had ever been ; 
Alas ! they only gilt the fickle heart that was within. 
We talked of loving hope as we had often talked before, 
We spoke — ah ! how confidingly — of happy days in store. 
O I what a mockery of love it was, when very well she knew 
The tempter with his g ;ld had bought the heart I thought so true. 
I've seen her only once since then, and years had roll'd away, 
'Twas in that village church where we had met full many a day ; 
And he for whom my love was scorned — he was not with her there. 
Pursuits of other mould were his than thoughts of praise and prayer. 
Hut when I look'd upon her face— how peerless it was still — 
A pang shot thro' my soul, I felt my eye with sad tears fill. 
For deep, heart-breaking misery was written on her brow. 
And, as I marked her sorrow, I forgave her all my woe. 


O ! the merry leaspate, 
The tesspale, the tea^ipale. 
The laugh was loud, the fun was gn 
At Mrs. Peacock'^ (ea-spnte. 
The laird was happy as a lord 
To see sic pleasure at his boani, 
Wi' henrty kindness he was stor'd 
And welcomes to the teaspate. 
Oh ! the merry teaspate, 
Tlie teaspate, the teaspate. 
It's won'erfu' how many met 
At Mrs. Peacock's (easpate. 
The leddie «-as baith biythe and braw. 
The merriest laugher o' (hem a', 
Kae care had she but hoo to draw 
The congou at the teaspate. 
O! the merry teaspate, 
The teaspate, the teaspate. 
The wale o' everything was great 
A( Mrs. Peacock's teaspate. 
And Mister Greer himsel' was there — 
Sic glorious chiels are unco rare- 
The foremost chap beyond compare 
That e'er was at a teaspate. 
O ! the merry teaspate, 
The teaspate, the teaspate. 
His jokes were just a perfect treat 
Al Mrs. Peacock's teaspate. 
And Mr. Mac. and Mr. Frank — 
The tane brew'd what the leddies drank 
The ilher foremost in the tank 
O' dancers at the teaspate. 
! the merry teaspate, 
The teaspate, the teaspate. 
We drank and danc'd at awfu' rate 
At Mrs, Peacock's teaspate. 


And there were leddies fair and gay. 
Maids, and wives, and widows, lae ; 
There ne'er was sic a grand array 
O* beauties at a teaspate. 

O ! the merry teaspate, 
The teaspate, the teaspate. 
Wee Cupid's arrows wema' blate 
At Mrs. Peacock's teaspate. 

St. Mungo sent some to the spree, 
Barrhead and Seestu two or three. 
And three fair maids frae Arthurlie 
Were shining at the teaspate. 

O I the merry teaspate, 
The teaspate, the teaspate ; 
The leddies' hearts were murder'd quite 
At Mrs. Peacock's teaspate. 

Twa fiddlers garr'd the lassies reel. 
The auld ane played the bass fu' weel, 
The ither rattled like the d— 1 
At Mrs. Peacock's teaspate. 

O ! the merry teaspate. 
The teaspate, the teaspate. 
The music made the rafters shake 
At Mrs. Peacock's teasi)ate. 

Sic jokes and jests, and dings and daffin'. 
Cracks and kisses, tricks an' cuffing. 
Fun and frolic, loups an' laughing, 
Ne'er were at a teaspate. 

! the merry teaspate, 
The teaspate, the teaspate. 

1 hope the year '11 no be late 
Till sic anither teaspate. 

This was a house-heating given by Mrs. Peacock. She then occupied 
the house between Grahamstone and Barrhead belonging to Mrs, Black. 
The two fiddlers were Mr. David Thomson, who died in 1868, aged 
ninety years, and the other was the author himself — [This note is by 
Jjf rimer.] 


DANIEL RICHMOND, M.D., was born in Paisley on 
19th February, 1812. His father, Dr. Thomas Richmond, 
to whom I have already referred at page 72, was also a 
native of Paisley. Daniel Rithmond, the subject of this 
notice, received the early part of his education at the Town's 
English School and the Paisley Grammar School, and com- 
pleted his medical studies and received his diploma at 
Glasgow University, He joined his father as a medical 
practitioner, under the firm of "Thomas Richmond & Son." 
'i"hey had, deservedly, an extensive and valuable practice in 
the town and adjoining country. 

After his father's death, he not only retained the profes- 
sional practice which they had acquired, but he largely 
increased it through his devoted attention to the |>atients 
who came under his care. He thereby secured a high 
position in the town. For upwards of forty years he was a 
member of the Medical Board of the Infirmary, and (or 
many years he faithfully discharged the duties of Medical 
Officer to the town, for he took a deep interest in everything 
pertaining to its sanitary improvement. In 1873, he pub- 
lished a pamphlet entitled "Town Improvements, and the 
preservation and restoration of Paisley Abbey, with views of 
the restored structure and map of street improvements." 
During the renovation of the Abbey in i860, Dr. Richmond 
was one of the members of committee having the charge of 
that important work. 

Dr. Richmond from his youth upwards was a consistent 
total abstainer from intoxicating liquors, and in a kind and 
friendly way he advised everyone to follow his example. On 
14th January, i88i, he was entertained at a public soiree in 


the Good Templar Hall, and, in recognition of his jubilee 
as a total abstainer, presented with an address thanking 
him for his great services in the cause of Temi>erance. The 
Ladies' Christian and Abstainers' Associations took advan- 
tage of this meeting to present Mrs. Richmond with a purse 
containing ;^i2oo, which they had collected for her. 

On 24th December, 1884, a number of gentlemen met in 
the Lecture Hall of the Free Library and Museum, on the 
occasion of Dr. Richmond having attained his jubilee as a 
medical practitioner in Paisley, and presented him with a 
testimonial consisting of his portrait in oil, along with a bank 
cheque for jC46^. Dr. Richmond did not, however, long 
survive the high honours thus done him, for he died on 9th 
April, 1S85, aged 73 years. The funeral was a public one, 
and was largely attended. 

In the midst of the busy life which Dr. Richmond led, he 
devoted some portion of his time to the cultivation of the 
muse, of which I give some specimens, — the first being a 
Christmas Carol that appeared in a newspaper in 1879 sub- 
scribed with the doctor's name. A number of those belonging 
to a religious denomination in town, who liked this carol, 
had it set to music for their use. 


God's perfect law of liberty 

Is freedom to do good, 
Freedom to love, freedom to ser\'e, 

To live and die with God. 

Freedom to scan His holy law, 

Freedom to sound his praise. 
Freedom to walk with upright men 

In all His holy ways. 

Freedom to help the humble poor, 

As stewards of the Lord, 
Freedom to speak, with loving heart, 

A sympathetic word. 


Freedom to help on honest friend 

When in adveisity. 
Freedom to help an earnest joulh 

To climb the social tree- 
Freedom to seek deliverance 

For all that are oppressed, 
Freedom to make the ignorant 

With heavenly wisdom blessed. 
Freedom to seek Ibe benefit 

Of every living one. 
Freedom to seek the good of all 

And seek the hurt of none. 

Freedom to serve mine enemy 

With good instead of ill, 
Freedom to make my love to hira 

Reverse his erring will. 

Freedom to know Ihe luxury 

Of ever doing good — 
The doing of my Father's will— 

My sweetest earthly food. 

Freedom to cnisli each selfish thought 

And every sordid strife. 
Freedom to make eternal love 

The motive of my life. 

In every thing, in every way. 

To do white'er I can ; 
The way to prove my love to God 

Is — to do good to man. 
Of greedy, selfish, erring will, 

I pray I may have none ; 
In every thing, in every way, 

God's will, not mine, be done. 

" He prayelh best who lovelh bes 
All things, both great and smal 

For tfae great God, who loveth us. 
He made and loveth all." 


My Father ! give the power to me 
Thus to become Thy son, 

That, through Thine own imparted grace. 
Our wills may be but one. 

{Taken from a letter to his Wife,) 

D earest, forget-me-not, 

A nd I'll remember thee — 

N earest in every thought, 

I nshrined shall thou be ; 

E ven when the sands of life have run, 

L ove but angelic will become. 

R epassing, I'll bless thee ; 
I n dreams, I will kiss thee. 
C ould I live without thee ? 
H enrietta, nay, nay ! 
M ay Providence guard thee, 
O n every side ward thee, 
N ew blessings impart to thee 
D ay after day. 


In Genesis the world was made by God's creative hand. 

In Exodus the Hebrews marched to gain the promised land. 

Leviticus contains the Law — holy, and just, and good. 

Numbers records the tribes enrolled, all sons of Abraham's blood. 

Moses in Deuteronomy recounts God's mighty deeds. 

Brave Joshua into Canaan's land the host of Israel leads. 

In Judges their rebellion oft provokes the Lord to smite. 

But Ruth records the faith of one well -pleasing in His sight. 

In First and Second Samuel of Jesse's son we read. 

Ten tribes in First and Second Kings revolted from his seed. 

In First and Second Chronicles see Judah captive made. 

But Ezra leads a remnant back by princely Cyrus' aid. 

The city walls of Zion Nehemiah builds again. 

While Esther saves her people from plots of wicked men. 


In Jab we read bow faith will live beneath affliction's lod. 

And David's Psalms are precious songs to every child of God. 

The Provtrbs like a goodly string of choicest pearls appear. 

EccUnasles leaches man how vain are all things here. 

The myslic Song of Solomon exalts sweet Sharon's Rose. 

While Christ the Saviour and the King the rapt Isaiah shows. 

The ■nami'ng Jeremiah apostate Israel scorns. 

His plaitilive Lamertlalioai their awful downfall mourns. 

Ezekiel tells in wondrous words of dazzling mysteries. 

Whilst kings and empires yet to come Daniel In vision sees. 

Of judgment and of mercy /fonw ioves to tell. 

Jed describes the blessed days when God with man shall dwell. 

Among Tekoo's herdsmen Amos received his call. 

While Obadiah prophesies of Edom'ii final fall. 

Jonah etwhrines a wondrous type of Christ our risen Lord. 

Micah pronounces Judah lost — lost, but again restored. 

Nahum declares on Nineveh just judgment shall be poured. 

A view of Chaldea's coming doom Habakkuk's visions give- 
Next Zephaniah warns the Jews to turn, repent, and live. 

Ha^ai wrote to those who saw the temple built again. 

And Zaehariah prophesied of Christ's triumphant reign. 

Mttlachi was the last who touched the high prophetic chord ; 

Its 5nal notes sublimely show the coming of tlie I^nl. 

Matlhew, and Mark, and Luke, and John, the boiy Gospel wrote. 

Describing how the Saviour die<l, His life, and all He laughc 

Aels prove how God the A|>ostles owned wilb signs in every place. 

St. Paul in Romans teaches us how man is saved by grace. 

The Aposlle in Corinlkiant instructs, exhorts, reproves. 

Galatians shows that faith in Christ alone the Father loves. 

Ephtsiam and Philippians tell what Chrislians ought to be. 

Celossians bids us live to God and for eternity. 

In Thessalonians we are taught the I^rd will come from Heaven. 

In Timothy and Titus a bishop's rule is given. 

Phileman marks a Christian's love, which only Christians know. 

Ilebrtjos reveals the Gospel well prefigured by the law. 
Jama teaches without holiness faith is but vain and dead. 

SI. Peler points the narrow way in which the saints are led. 
John in his three epistles still on love delights to dwell. 

Si. Jude gives awful warnings of judgment, ivrath, and hell. 

The Revelations prophesy of thai tremendous day 

When Christ, and Christ alone, shall be the trembling sinners' stay. 



ROBERT SKIMMING was bom in Stewarton on 29th 
April, 181 2. His father was a weaver. Robert himself 
was bred to that trade under his father. He came to 
Paisley from Stewarton in 1827, and began to rhyme about 
that time. His first pieces of poetry appeared in the " Penny' 
Songster," published in Paisley in 1839. He however 
published himself a collection of his poetry, of thirty-six 
pages, in 1841, entided " Lays of Leisure Hours." And in 
1 85 1 he published another volume of poetry of sixty-four 
pages, containing some of the pieces in the previous volume. 
After being forty years in Paisley, he went to Rothesay, and 
received the appointment of Janitor to the Working Men's 
Institute. He was on the platform on Gleniffer Braes at 
the Centenary of Tannnahill on 3rd June, 1874. Robert 
Skimming died at Rothesay in 1882. 


A lanely leuk has my hearthstane, 

And cauld *s the sheets I maun lie down in ; 
Sair, sair, 1*11 mourn my Mirren gane, 

When nae ane's near to hear my moaning. 

I won her heart, I won her han', 
Wi' her was crown'd my dearest wishes, 

For we were ane in wedlock's ban', 
Surrounded wi* a sea o* blisses. 

But little liUle did I dream 

Death wad sae soon o*ertak* my dwelling ; 
Sae soon extinguish every beam 

That shone like simmer at our calling. 


Oh ! dinna moum, my bonny baims ; 

Oh ! dinna greet for your deid mither. 
She's sleeping soun' in Death's cauld anos, 

Awa' frae your heart-broken faelher. 
And she was kind and leal o' heart. 

And gar'c my bow'r leuk warm and beinly. 
Noo wha like her will lak' my pairt ? 

\\'ha'll Id ye bairns be noo sae frien'ly ? 
Grandmother, wi' the will o' God, 

May soothe your woe wi' kind ca«sses. 
But ah ! she'll never ease the load 

That your puir faether's heart distresses. 
Ye dinna ken, my bonny weans, 

While your wee orphan heids I'm happing, 
The grief for you this bieist sustains. 

The tears that soon must cca^e their drapping. 
For I am aged in woe, not years ; 

The joys that 1 ha'e been pursuing 
Ila'e flown on a' that life endears. 

And made my house a scene o' ruin. 
A lanely leuk has my hearthsianc. 

And cauld's the sheets I maun lie down in ; 
Sair, sair. I'll moum my Mirren gane. 

When nae ane's near to hear my moaning. 


/l/r-'-Ths Iriih WuhETwonun," 
Up ihe gate, down the gale, Watty gaed Addling, 
Up the gate, down the gate, Watty gaed fiddling ; 
The wives o' the dachan around him cam' paidling ; 

But foul fa' their ears, for ihey hcardna' his p[ainl. 
His meal pock was loom and hid pouches were coinless, 
Wei was the night, and his heid it wit himeless, 
Sair was his heart sac guileless and blameless ; 

But ihe folk o' the clachau ne'er looked as they keiit. 


He uing them o' beauty, o' fashkm, and fineiy ; 
He Muig them o* Bacchus, o' war, lore, and scenerj ; 
Tho* the tones o' his music were fn* o' snUimery, 
The ne'er a heart melted to feel for his plaint. 

Hut by cam' a chiel wha was charmM wi' his ditty, 
Whase manly breast on Watty took pity, 
Sae he got him a warm cosy ingle to sit by. 

And gied him some comfort his woes to prevent 

And noo when auld Watty ^s benighted and lanely, 
And 15iireas' cauld blasts frae the airts blawing keenly, 
He sings o' the chiel wha him treated sae frien'ly 

When hunger and cauld made him weary and faint 

Up the gate, down the gate, Watty gaed fiddling, 
Up the gate, down the gate, Watty gaed fiddling ; 
The wives o' the clachan around him cam* paidling ; 
liut foul fa* their cars for they hcardna* his plaint 

ijK GL 13R DIE. 

Air — " My mither mcn't my auld brceks.'* 

The Dcil cam* to our toun, 

A gruesome look in' body ; 
O, the Devil cam' to our toun 

In search o* He — gl Br — die. 
Fu* lang he wauncrt up and doun, 

At every comer spcarin', 
The cloven- footed, touzic loun, 

Krc he could gel his errand. 

Fal de dal, &c. 

At length he cam' to Moss Street head, 

And stood a minenl swithcring ; 
Hut oh I sic awfu' hoasts he gied 

That a' around were smothering. 
He swore he'd set our toun on fire 

din out we wadna turn him ; 
Then challengctl a' the He— gl tribe 

Gif they his haunts could learn him. 

Fal de dal, &c 


Quoth he "For him I've looket Uog, 

Some jobs I have to gie him ; 
And a.' your strongest porter Uds, 

A few, I'm wantin' wi' him." 
Then out roared muckle Johny P — It, 

" To H— 1 wi' you I'U gang, sir. 
Gin ye'll gi' me leave to hang the rake, 

I wi'na' think on't lang sir. 

Fal de dul, &c. 
Then Clouty leuch and shook his head, 

And says — " My lad I'll haud ye." 
Syne down the gale wi' him he sped 

In search o' Be — gl Br — die. 
On leaching wee accountant's door. 

Like Ihun'cr up he sent it. 
For he fan the smell o' Br— die there, 

The very man he wantit. 

Fal de dal, &c 
Now sic a roar laiig Br — die gieil. 

When Satan benward lookit. 
The very biggin' shook wi' dreed 

Till neighbours clean forsook iL 
Auld Coomey seized him by Ihe neck 

And, to mak' brief the atoiy, 
lie wl' Ihe brute hois'd on his back 

Flew up the vent like fury, 

Fal de dal, &c. 
Now ilop till 1 rehearse ae fact 

Thai I had maist negteciit. 
Od, i(s thochi the Uevil will soon be ba< 

For some that's mair respectit. 
For had ye been on Scesta's cross 

When he was speechifying. 
The writer loons yc wad hae seen 

In a' directions fleeing. 

Fal dc dal, &c. 




Air—' }ocki 

Wb; seek ye, love I 

And a' around so 

Oh I deem 



, my heart impure. 

Time may deform ilk feature, dear, 

When far across the sea. 
But ne'er can fade the love I bear 

For Annock Bum and thee. 

The flow'r that blaws on foreign mead, 

For sake o' thee I'll bless. 
The stream that rows o'er foreign bed 

Its shades I'll love to trace. 
\Vi' dear dcliglii I'll view them a' 

Unseen frae human e'e, 
'Twill mind me o' the stream and ahaw 

Whar aft we wanton 'd free. 

Yon sun that gilds our dearest scene 

Is everywhere the same. 
He'll airt me safe (o Ihee again 

And bonny Annock hame. 
Wi' thee we'll gaiig our bow'rs. amang 

Ilk joyous mom's rclum, 
And hark again Ihe gloaming 

That echoes up tlic burn. 



ROBERT KING, son of James King— whom we have 
already noticed as one of Paisley's most notable bards 
(p. 114) — was bom at Kincardine -on -Forth on 25* 
December, 1812. His mother, who had received a good 
education, was his principal teacher till he reached seven 
years of age. From that period till he was ten years of age, 
he was under a college student in the same village. At the 
latter age, he removed with his mother to Glasgow, and was 
entered in a school connected with Govan Parish. When 
about twelve years of age, his father placed him under his 
intimate friend John Murphy,* a well-known shawl pattern- 
draver. But this arrangement ended in 1836, in con- 
sequence of Robert's removal to Paisley along with his 
parents, where his father wished to place him as an appren- 
tice to a pattern -drawer, who was also an experienced 
artist and miniature painter ; but this man being irregular in 
his habits, the proposal was abandoned, and it was arranged 
that he should be a hand-loom weaver, although drawing 
and colouring were much more to his liking. He attended 
' night classes while serving his apprenticeship, and after 
becommg a journeyman, he attended as a private pupil with 
Mr. C, J. Kennedy in Gordon's Lane. In 1841 Mr. King, 
during the great stagnation of trade which then prevailed, 

' John Murphy vias a native of Paisley. In iSlo, he published in 
Glasgow a work of 1^2 pages, entitled "The Manufacturer and 
Weaver's Companion ; Being a Practica.1 Treatise on the Linen and 
Cotton Manufactures, with an Kiplanation oC the Principles of Fancy 
Weaving- I11ustiale<l by Elegant Engravings." lliis became 3. 
standard work for many years on gristing or sizing yam, on cuuning or 
sleying on reeds, calculation of webs, tambour and needle-work, fancy 
loom-work, Iweeling, the dmw-loom, and gauze- weaving. The work 
was illuslraled with a series of beautiful ly-execuled engravings by our 
late ingeniom io»iisman. A, Blaikic. I'hc name of Murphy, among 
pal(em-dntwer3, abounded in Paisley during the first three decades of 
this century. 


was appointed a teacher to niany of the children of the 
unemployed weavers. There was a proposal at that time 
that he and some others should go to British North America 
as teachers ; but having a wife and lamily, he relinquished 
any such idea, and opened instead a school in Great Hamil- 
ton Street, where he continued for four years. While holding 
this position, he set himself to the acquiring of higher 
branches of education than he then possessed, in order to 
fit himself for taking charge of rooie advanced classes. He 
afterwards went to the Free Church School in Stevenson 
Street, Paisley, where he was master for nine years. 
When conducting this school, he, witli the concurrence of 
the managers, appointed a substitute to enable him to take 
a short session of the Free Church Normal Seminary, and, 
after passing his Government examination, the Stevenson 
Street School came under inspection. In 1859, Mr. King 
accepted the appointment of master of the Free Church 
School, Killearn, and thus left Paisley after having resided 
in it without interruption for eighteen years. Some time 
after the passing of the Education Act for Scotland in 1872, 
Mr. King came under the new Board of Education for 
Kiileam Parish, where he had been teaching for sixteen 
years, and he has now been thirteen years in receipt of a 
retiring allowance which, along with one from the Free 
Church, enables him to live in comfort and without 
laborious exertions at Little Boquhan, Killearn. 

Mr. King commenced, when very young, to make verses — 
as early as ten years of age. One of these, he remembeis, 
was on the subject " Wallace looking back on the fatal field 
of Falkirk." His father, when reading over the piece, 
seemed pleased till he came to the part where the youthful 
poet made his hero weep for the destruction of his gallant 
followers. " Wallace weep ! " exclaimed his father, throwing 
the verses to his son. " Wallace never wept" No fit of 


rhyming enlhusiasm came upon Mr, King for many yeais 
thereafter. His time, he says, was much takea up with his 
scholastic duties, and he had few spare hours to devote to 
the Muses, but he always cherished the hope that, should he 
be favoured with more leisure, he would then devote more 
attention to poetry. Retirement and leisure, he fiirther 
states, have been obtained ; but at upwards of threescore 
years and ten the poetic fire bums lower than it fonnerly 
did. His poetical pieces have not, as yet, been collected 
and published in book form ; but I give four pieces com- 
posed in his earliest days. 


Car^edoon cam' west on last Easter Friday, 

Toe speer hoo health an' forlune betide mc. 

An' set him on the sofa beside me, 
Shy-1ookin(; an' modestly. 

In baimhood lime we Iten'd ilk ither, 

At school we ran an' romped thegilher ; 

Since then we'd been like sister an' brither 

Through thirty years, aye, an' mair. 

Quoth I — " Cinedoon, is it Misii Jean or mc 

You have come sae courteously lae see. 

Or simply tae join in our four-hours' tea ? 
Your welcome, howe'er," quoth I. 

Quoth he—" Miss Mains, I needna tae swither, 

Uul tell you freely what's brought me hither. 

We've baiih been lang 'thout tailher an' milher, 
Wi' bailh the worl's gane weel. 

*' Your farm an' mine lie near ilher," quoth he, 

" In gude condilion, o' a' burdens free, 

An' under ae management weel might be ; 
Twa heads are better than ane." 

Quolli I — " Carsedoon, we have baith come tae years 

When simpering roair than folly appears ; 

Your plan lae gude commonsense, sir, adheres, 
An's worth dreaming a nicht upon. 


" But then there's something lae it 

A bar tae the suit — a clause between ; 

tij matriage sends a' the Mains tae Miss Jean ; 

For her 'tis weel tae be sae." 

Sajrs he—" We'll cut that entanglement clean ; 
I've plenty tae mak' you as happy's a queen ; 
The Mains wi' its slock ma)r gang a' tae Miss Je: 

Our Jamie can come tae th' Mains." 
Miss Jean made ready a braw tousey lea, 
At which we lautd our proposals quite free ; 
Bui Miss had a plan o' her ain, d'ye see— 

A' cosej beneath her thoom. 

The younger son o' Sir Caimeylee, 
For lang ui' the royal navy at sea, 
But o' (he reserves a captain tae be, 

Was beau (o our douce Miss Jean. 
But just in middle o' our repast 
Cam' news that set a' the table aghast ; 
The heir o' Sir Cairneylee had been cail 

Frae his hotse, an' killed was he. 

When tauld the sad end o' his son and heir. 
Sir Caimeylee fell a' prone frae his chair — 
Nor soun' nor motion made lie ever mair ; 

Death surely was pleased that day. 
The Captain rose as their honours fell, 
But kept in high honour his love-tTSls well, 
An' sister Jean, I am glad tae tell. 

Is Lady o' Cairneylee. 

An' Jamie Carsedoon has gotten my niece — 
Our Ailie's young an' bonny Alice — 
An' noo they're settled in joyous peace 

As lady and laird o' the Mains. 
But O how fiued the hate kinlry roun', 
'Boul Caimeylee, the Mains, an' Carseiloon ; 
An' now they're wailing what's a' tae croon — 

First shoots for ilk family tree. 

BLACKDALES, LARGS, 19TH January, 1877. 

Througb fifty years, oh, deaiy me ! 

Tis misty toe look back ; 
Bui mem'ry fond, wi' jrladsome light, 

Illumes ihe well-known track. 
And »;enes o' love, and grief, and joy. 

Arise in chequered train. 
And seem as real as if the past 

Now present were again. 

But wed I wol, for every grief 

A thousand joys are seen. 
And ilk ane, wi' a thousand tongues, 

rroclaim how Irue you've been. 
For every shade you've bathed in light. 

Ilk grief wi' joy you've crown'd. 
Till every tear has grown a pearl. 

Ilk sigh a joyous sound. 

Auld folk of* say that youlh is daft. 

Bards sing that love is blind. 
But lifly years prove I've been blest 

Wi' sight and sense refined, 
I saw your manly form and face. 

Your loving, truthfu' life. 
And I gave my love, my heart, my name 

A' tae be your guidwife. 

\'our hand was hard wi' earnest work. 

Your face wi' sunshine brow-ncd ; 
But siller won wi' failhlu' sweat 

Has aye an honest sound. 
And fair-won siller, fairly used. 

Gars wani and care stand back. 
And fills the barrel and Ihe cup, 

The dresser and Ihe rack. 


Your head is p>triarchal now. 

Your brow gnmd furrows tmce, 
Your silvery beard, o' richest fret. 

Illumes your naaly face. 
'MuE men o' worth you're hououred aye, 

And honoured aye will be ; 
And, though you're no Sir W., 

Yer my guidman tae me. 
Twa loving hearts, twa uilling minds. 

Life's campaign we began. 
And how's our golden wedding night — 

See i we have grown a clan 1 
God bless our bairns, and bairns' bairns t 

God bless you, my guidman ! — 
I'd rin the race richt o'er again, 

That wc sac wcel ha'e ran. 


We do not want to fight, boys. 
We do not want to fighl ; 

We court no blow, 

We dare no foe ; 
But 'lis as well that alt shoukl know 
We're ready when 'lis right, boys. 
We're ready when 'tis right. 
For peace we drill and arm, boys, 
For peace we drill and arm ; 

Vet still declare 

No foe we dare ; 
But should foes threat 'mid irumpels' blare. 
We're out at first alarm, boys, 
We're out at first alarm. 
Dear is our country's fame, boys, 
Dear is our country's fame. 

To have and hold 

As won of old, 
And Eihall be held by Driloiis bold ; 
All hail the honoured name, boy$, 
All hail the honoured name. 


With loyal heart >nd hand, boys, 
With lojal heart and hand, 
Our gallant lais 
And regulars. 
Our trust and guard in coming wars 
On every sea and land, boys. 
On every sea atid land. 
Ours is the sacred worlt, boys. 
Ours is the sacred work. 
To guard our land 
On every hand. 
That no foe's foot pollute our strand, — 
Celt, Saxon, Sclav, or Turk, boys, 
Celt, Saxon, Sclav, or Turk. 
Then huziah ! huizah '. huuah I boys, 
1 1 uz/ah I huzzah 1 huzzoh ! 
For gallant tar 
And regular. 
For home defence and far-off war ; 
Again three limes huu^h ! 
Ildzzahl huiiah! huzzah 1 


The Fossilist and Glactal Shells. 
An old man pottering on the beach, 
Within the margin thai neap tides reach. 
What treasure trove seeks the old man there, 
Thus digging and searching with crazed core ? 
Dreams he of finding the Norsemen's store 
Of gold neath the sands of Warriston's shore ? 
Seeks he for osteons relics, to tell 
The bran-ny strength of the men who fell 
When Neptune aided our Scottish band. 
And storm and strife both on sea and land 
Left wreck and ruin upon the strand 
Of Haco's navy and Nordland host. 
And quenched proud Scandinavia's boast 
That Odin's raven and banner of Thor 
Should lord it o'er Scotland from shore to shore? 
He's fairly dressed and of cultured mien. 


There*s more in his method thanks surface seen. 

** Good morning, sir ; let us kindly state 

You're too far up for securing bait," 

*' Good morning," blandly the old man said, 

As unperturbed he raised his head. 

" You'll think me under some moon-struck spells 

When told I am only searching for shells." 

" For shells? Why, there, sir, on every hand 

In thousands they lie on the dark -brown sand." 

" Oh, yes ; these shells worked up by the tide 

Were homes of molluscs that lately died. 

The shells I seek tell of long-gone time, 

Of ice and snow, of a polar clime. 

Of glacial drift and boulder clay — 

You look in wonder at what I say. 

These hills and glens in sunlight aglow 

Were gashed and moulded by ice and snow. 

How long ago? — I cannot give dates. 

Not years give measure, but styles and states. 

As ages of learning, building, dress, 

Of Norman, Tudor, or good Queen Bess ; 

The old ones waning as mixed the new. 

Or marking growth and persisting through ; 

As oar and sail and paddle and screw. " 

** And these your prizes ? " " No beauties," you say. 

** They've lain too long in this sand and clay. 

Besides, they're not of Orient seas, 

But rough and dull and grimy. They please. 

Or here, or distant from present shores, 

'Neath busy haunts, or 'neath upland moors. 

And, found in sand, or in clay or lime. 

Each fossil stratum records its time. 

Records its place in the great stone scroll, 

Which man through ages may ne'er unroll, 

May ne'er unroll as to how and when. 

May ne'er unroll as to thence and then ; 

But ever find in the great design 

New cause to praise the Power Divine. " 



Abbey Choir, 150. 

Abbey, Pirsl Oratorio in the, 150. 

Abbey, History of the. By Rev. 

Dr. Boog, 30, 
Abbey Poorhouse, 385. 
Abbey, Reatomtion of, and town 

improveinents, 471. 
Abbotsford, 3!3. 
Abercom Room Dinner, Tannahill 

Centenary, 89. 
Aberfeldy, 251. 
Abstainers' Association, Ladies' 

Christian, 472. 
" Accewion, The," of King James 

VI. By Mrs. Maxwell, 358. 
Adam, John, bleacher, Colinslee, 

r, 343- 

Adam, J. R., poet; n 
Ad<lison. 75- 
Adelphi Theatre, Edinburgh, 430. 
Advirliser, Glasgow, 44. 
Adverltier, Paisley, 26, 37. 
Adftrliser, Rfnfrewshin, 358. 
AfSicted Man's Companion, By 

John Andrews, no. 
Aird, Andrew, poet; memoir, 2*3. 
Airth. 269. 
Alabama, The, 467. 
Aldpalrick bum. Beside. By R. 

Stewart, 391. 
Alexander, Archibald, 3S4. 
Alexander Claud, la 
Alexander, William, poel ; memoir, 

Algie, James, 9, 10. 
Algie, James, and John Park, 9. 
Aliison. Rev. Matthew, 395. 
Alloa, 46a 

Almond Bank, Fcrihshire, 340. 
Almond Water, Ode to. By Alex. 

Brown, 341. 

By D. 


AlDuhonse clock and bell taken tc 

Hope Temple, 223, 224. 
Alsatia of Paisley, 16. 
America, 47. 343. 395- 
America, Central, 430. 
America, Impressions of. 

Gilmour, 424. 
America, North, 482. 
American Ornithology. By Alex. 

Wilson, 48, 49. 
Amulet, Lyrics in. By T. K. 

Hervey, 331. 
Anderson, David, 43. 
Anderson, James, 276. 
Anderson, William, poet ; memoir, 

Anderson, Wdliam, 83. 
Andrews, John, poet ; mei 
Ane Dioliw belwixl Simson una 

Ixivie, By James M'Alpic, 9. 
Ane Letter from a Lover to his 

Mistress. By lames M'Alpie, 9. 
Anglers' social habits and songs, 

Algiers, The Meny. Song by 

John Dunn, 326. 
Anglers, where they do hide their 

heads Sone by John Dunn, 324. 
Angling Club, Edinburgh, 313, 

Anna. By Dr. Sim, 307. 
Annock Bum, 480, 
Annual Miscdlany, 217. 
Answer to scurillous veldes against 

the Magistrates and School- 
master. By James M'Alpie, 9. 
Anthems by R. A. Smith, 151. 
Arbitration, Law of, 402. 
Arithmetician's Instructor. By 

Thomas Spreul, 354. 
Argyll, Duke of, 456. 

490 IND 

AiTov and Rose, and other poems, i 

By W. Kennedy, 327. 
Arl Journal, conlributions to, by ' 

T. K. Hervey, 33a. i 

Ashie>teel, 324. ! 

Athenaeum, ediled by T. K- ! 

Hervey, 331. 1 

Allanlic Ocean, R. Clark drowned 

in, 4SI- , 
Auchenbothie, 44 
Aachinleck, 307. 
Auld Man's Lamenl. By W. 

Cross, 379, 381. 
Australia. ByT. K. Hervey, 331. 
Autumn Sere, Welcome. By K. 

Stewart, 391. 
Ayr Academy, 311. 
Ayr Cauritr, 31 1. 
Ayrshire News Letter, 395. 

Back of my hand to you. By 

Charles Marshall, 297. 
Baine, Rev. James, 

Bard, Say not the. Song by W. 

M'Laren. 81. 
Baids, a Hint to Pastoral. By 

John King, 141. 
Bart, James, 417. 
Ban, John, entertamed at a public 

dinner, 427. 
Ban, John, Houston, 15. 
Ban-, John, poet ; memoir, 427. 
BarrS: M 'Nab, 427, 
Barrhead, 470. 
Barrocban, 407. 
Bathing in Killoch Glen, loa 
Battle of Bu-^aco. By J. King, 115. 
Biyanl. By Mrs. Maxwell, 358. 
Bedouins, The, a poem, by A. H. 

HcBgi Rev. Ur., 292, 293. ; 

Beilh, 398. , 

Belfast, 48, 343. I 

BclftaRe, Kev. Mr., 62. \ 
Bell, Bonny. By E. Picken, 64. 1 
Bell, John, 402. 

Bell, John Montgomery, ]>oel \ 

Bell, Johnie Manikin's. A poem 
by John Patereon, 127. 

Bell's School, 265. 

Bells, The Twa. By D. Rorrison, 

284, 286. 
Bellirees, Newtown of, 354. 
Bereaved Husband, The. Bj R. 

Skimming, 476. 
B— gl Br— die. By R. Skimming, 

Bicket, Miss, 293. 
Birds, drawn by Alexander Wilson, 

Birds of America. By Alexander 

Wilson, 48. 
Bissel, I'rovost, 379. 
Bissland, William, 164. 
B., J., poel, 361. 
Black, John, poet ; memoir, 437. 
Black, Mrs., 470. 
Blackhall Castle, 407. 
Blackball Factory, 436. 
Btacklaw MilL By Alex. M'Gil- 

vray, 337. 
Blackmore, 7S- 

Blad-imKiJ's Magazine, 159, 161, 
Bladda, kitchen ganlen of the 

Abbots, 136. 
Blair, 75. 

ISlair, Adam, Kinross, 30a 
Blanche and Isabella. By Mrs. 

Maxwell, 358. 
Bloomfield, 48. 
Blue Bell of Scotland, The. By 

W. M'Oscar, 396. 
Bonnie Peggy. By Dr. Sim, 307. 
Bonnie Wood o' Craigielea. By 

Tonnahill, 455. 
Bonnylon Falls, 100. 
Bonny Wee Wife. By John Black, 


Boog, Rev. Dr., poel ; m 

30. 'SO- 
Borland, Alex., poet ; mem( 

Borland, Alexander, poet ; m 

Bosom Bear the Thought, Can 
Thy. By J. Goldie, 312. 

Bouskill, Thomas, poet ; mtamir, 

Braeside Cotlage, Millarston, 46a 
Braes of Gkniffer, song, 90. 
Braham, Mr,, 170. 
Breaking Hean, The. By W. 

Finiay, 167. 
Brewslcr, Kev. ratrick, 371. 
Bridegroem and Bride. By A. 

Park, 414. 
British Consul, Texas, W. Kennedy, 

Brock Stream, 99. 
Brodie, David, 32. 
Broomlands Street, 370. 
Brown, Alex., poet ; memoir, 340. 
Brown, Bailie Andrew, 136. 
Brown Cleuek On. Song by 

Alexander Borland, 274, S75. 
Brown, Dr. 
Brown, Dr. 
Brown, Isaac, 300. 
Brown's, John, house in IJidy Lane 

burned, 347. 
Brown, Robert, Lisl of relics of 

Alex. Wilson owned hy, $6. 
Brown, Robert, Town Chamber- 

Branton, William, poct ; memoir, 

367. 395- 
Bumlip, 1 he. By Thomas Dick, 

Bums, 75. 

Bums. A poem by BouskUl, 133. 
Bums Club resuscitated, II. 
Bums Club, Paisley, 78, 134, 151, 

'54. «94- , . , 

Bums in Ayrshire, Visit from 

Alex. Wilson to, 46. 
Bums, In Celebration of. By 

John M'Gr^r, 234, 
Bums in his infancy. By Alex. 

Burns in Lochly. By Alex. Tail, 

Bums Festival Ode. By J. R. 

Adam, 344. 
Bums. Poem by John King, 1 39. 


Buns, Rev. Dr., 393. 
Bums, Tait's ill will to, 20a 
Bums, Written under the Portrait 

of. By Alex. M'Gilvray, 339. 

am Trout, The. By George 

Macindoe, 69. 
Burnt, Rev. Elihu, 393. 

Colder, Mid, 402. 
Caldwell, George, 369. 
Ca1dweIl,James,secrelary for Alex. 

Wilson moniuncnt, 57- 
Caldwell, John, 173. 
Caldwell. Mrs., 371. 
Caldwell, senior, George, 369. 
Cald wells, the two George, printen ; 

memoirs, 369. 
Ca/tdcHta Mercury, 43a. 
Caledonian Lyre, 25B. 
Caledonia Street, 333, 
Calton Hill, 455. 
Cameron, W. C,, poet; memoir, 

Campbell, Sheriff, 164, 316. 
Campbell, Thomas, author of 

" PleiLsures of Hope," 164. 
Canada, 379, 327. 
Canal Calamity in 1810, 217. 
Canal passage-boat accident, 438. 
Canal Street, 385. 
Candlemas Offerings. A poem by 

James Goldie, 146. 
Candrcn Bum, 88. 
Candren Bum, 3S4. 
Canongale, 430, 
Canty Chiel, 438. 
Coilile, Alexander, poet ; memoir, 

Ldrble, Rev. Mr., 393. 
Catlile's Sketches of Paisley, 330. 
Cajlile, Sons, & Co., James, 384, 

Carlisle, 370. 
Caroline, Queen, 251. 
Carriagehill, 433. 
Canick, J. D., 301. 
Carron, 62. 

Carscwell, John, poet ; memoir, 


Cartha's riainl. 

Fleming, 410. 
Cart, Valley of the. 

Fleming, 407. 
Castlchead, 15. 
Castle Street, 89. 
Castle Street, ^S^. 
Calrine's, L<>ch, scenery wild. 

J. B., 361. 
Ciiiiseyside, 369, 42J. 
Cease, ye howling winds to bli 

I!yJ- B,,36j. 
Celestial Finale. By E. Ticken, 

Cemetery, EdinbuiBh, Grange, 293. 
Cemetery, Paisley, 385,415. 
Chalmers, Rev. Dr., 293. 
Chalmers, William, poet ; memo 

Chambers, Robert, I.L.D., 69. 

Charles j Coats, J. & P., 456, 460. 

Coats, Thomas, ^ 103. 

Charles Coats, Thomas, bought Hope 

I Temple and grounds, 124. 

Cobbett, William, com, 121. 

Cobbett, William, in Paisley, 121, 

Charity. A Sonnet by R. 

M'Auslan, 434. 
Chimside, Presbytery of, 392. 
CArislian Instmclar, Ei/iiiiHr^i, 

Christian, The Old. By Charlo 

Marshall, 395. 
Christmas Carol, A. By Dr- 

Richmond, 472. 
Christopher North, i6r. 
Church, Independent, 407. 
Church, Swedish, Philadelphm, 

memory of Alex. Wilson, 5a 
Clart &Co.,43. 
Clark & Ramsay, 315. 
Clark, James, l-aisky, 57. 
Clark, Robert, poet ; nicmc)ir. 

Cochran, Samuel, 73. 
Cochran, Samuel, 129. 
CoHee Room, Paisley, 167, 322. 
Colinslee Printworks, 340. 


>. 455; 



Dy Ja. 

M'Alpic, 10. 

lulie and Willie; or ClemtTcr 

Warlock. By Thomas Spreul, 


yde. Hanks of. By A. Part, 

Colleges, dlasgow. By W. 

M 'Oscar, 397. 
Colquhoun, Alex., poet ; memoir, 

349. 379- 
Commercial Inn, Supper in, to A. 

Colquhoun, 349, 
Concerts, Tannahill, on Gleniffer 

[mtent, loncekneir. ByThonias 

Convici Ship, The. By T. K. 

Hervcy, 332. 
Cook, George, of London, 55. 
Cook, John, 411. 
Cork, 343. 

t orks, Causeyside, Meaningof, 13S. 
Cor[is (.Senile, 150. 
'■ -a Falls, 100, 

ivrcckan, Whirlpool of, 401. 
Corstorphine hill, 455. 
"ouncil, Town, Action against, by 

Chalmers and others, 142. 
County BuiUling, 265. 
Cowiienha' Burn, 99. 
Cowper, 75. 

Craig, Ht., at Bums Club, 156. 
Craig, Dr. William, 72. 
Craigcnfcocb, 389. 
Craigmillar, 455. 
Craig, William, poet ; memoir, 

194, 229. 
Crawfonl, Archibald, 379. 
('rawford, Lawrie, 27. 
Crawford, William, poet; memoir, 

(.ricliion, Miss Mary, 86. 
Crichlon, Thomas, biographical 
sketch of Alex. Wilson, 67, 

Crookbton Caslle. By Charles 

Kleming, 407. 
Crookston, with i I lustration, 259. 
Cros-ilie, 230. 

Cross of I'aisley, lllustrateJ, 259. 
Cross, William, poet memoir, 379. 
<Juromlng, Ibomas, poet; memoir, 

Curlers of Paisley, 38. 

Dainty Bit Plan, The. ISy W. 

Cn>s.s, 3S0, 382. 
Daliiel, Gavin, poet ; memoir, 233. 
Day, The publidlioii, 300, 317. 
Deil's Artdress to the Plunkin 

Corks. A poem by John King, 

'3S. '36- 
Delaware, 48. 

Kospair. liy A. B. Piekcn, 432. 
Devotional Music. By K. A. 

Smith, ISO- 
Dickie, John. anU John Mitchell, 

authors of " Philosophy of Witch- 

craft," 177, 
Dick, Thomas, poet ; memoir, 438. 
Dictionary, Pocket. By K. Picken, 

Dinna Think. O. liy Alexander 

M'Gilvray, 338. 
Directory, Paisley, 1812, 223, 299, 

Disconsolate Wren. By Alex. 

Wilson, 53. 
Dispensary and House of Recovery, 


Doctor, Toa. Byjames M'Alpic, 

Dover Vision. By Mallheiv Smith, 

Downic, Colonel Charles, 236. 
Downie, General, 236. 
l)o»iiie. Lady, 236. 
Ihwnieof lilaii^>rls, 236. 
Downie, The Brave Commander, 


EX. 493 

Dream of Life's young day, The. 

By W. Finlay, 268. 
Dream. The. By John Dunn, 321. 
Drill Hall, Soiree in, Tflimahill 

Centenary, 89. 
Drumcl<^, Morning of the battle 

of. By Dr. Craig, 196. 
Drummond, Ex-ProvosI, 379. 
Dryden, 7S- 
Dudding&lon, 456. 
Dum Capimus Capimur. Song liy 

John Dunn, 325. 
Dumfries, 37a 
Dimlilane, 181. 
DuncaJi, William, 44, 48. 
Dnndonalii, Lord, 15. 
Dunfermiine, Nurlh Parish Church, 

quoad sacra, 292. 
Dunlop, John, prosecuted bv John 

Ilan, procurator-fiscal, for issuing 

placard »-ilhou[ printer's name 

thereon, 127. 
Dunlop, Mrs., 292. 
Dunn, John, 294. 
Diuiii, John, poet ; memoir, 321, 
Dunn's, John, Library sold, 323. 
Dmiii, -i*l.»nu.sS.,S.C.,323. 
Dunoon, 88. 
Dunoon, Dark. By Thomas Lyle, 

Durham, Earl of, 327. 
Dyers' Wynd, 364. 
Dying Year, The. By Rev. P. 



East Relief Church, 223. 
Edinburgh, 44, 61, 160. 
Kdinbut^k CkriituinlnslnKlor, 37. 
Edinburgh High School, 299, 
Edinburgh, R. A. Smith leaves for, 

Edmburgh Weekly Chronkle, 349, 

Eitmund's Grave. By Mrs. Max- 

"ell, 359. 

Eei'pt. 414. 

Eldetslie. 389. 

Ulfray, Windennere Lake, i6o. 
Emigisnt's Hope, 449. 
Emigrants, The. By A. B. Picken, 

Emigrant, The ScoHish, 451. 
EmmB ; or the Cruel Father, a 

poetical tale, 78. 
English School, Town's, II. 
Esk, 4SS- 

Espedair Bum, 423. 
Espedair Bum, J. King ; thought 

to be Helicon, 114. 
Espedair, The Lass of. A song b; 

James King, llS. 
Essays by Membeis of L.C.A., 

Ettrick Shepherd, 361. 
Evil, The Endurance of, 191. 
Ewing, Mary, wife of fames Scad 

Exercises on Punctuation, &c. By 
Thomas Spreul, 354, 

Faculty of Procurators, Paisley, 

F Jkit'k, 6i, 169. 

Falkirk, Battle of, 482. 

Falls of Niagara, 54. 

Farewell. By Rev. Alexander 

Rennison, 391. 
Farewell to Culross. By VI. 

Cross, 380. 
Farewell to the Light Company, 

95thregimenL By J. R. Adam, 

FarquharKin, Robert, 164. 
Fates of Akeus. By W. Crawford, 

Fencibles, West Lowland, 114. 
Fereneze Printworks, 340. 
Fergus, Mr. & Mrs., GoUien 

Wedding. By R. King, 485. 
Ferguson, Mr^,, 385. 
Ferguson, Robert, an J Allan 

Kamsay. Debate in Edinbutgh 

on Which did most honour ' 

Scottish poetry, 44. 

ideft. River Tweed, 333. 

Ferrier, Professor, lectored in 

Paisley, 170. used by Alex. WiUon, 

Findlay, Rev. John, 38. 
Fiiilayson, Janet, 158, 
Finlayson, William, I $8. 
Findlay, lire, Btyce, & Co., 

FereneM, 96. 
Finlay, William, poet ; memoir, 

First Love. By D. Gilmour, 4x4. 
Fitful Fancies. By W. Kennedy. 

Fleming, Charles, 259, iS6, 406. 
Fleming, Charles, poet ; memoir, 

Fleming, James, 406. 

Fleming, Rev. Ales., 99. 

Flora's Bower. By R. A. Smith, 

Footpath over Gleniffer Braes from 

Killoch Glen to Paisley, 100. 
Foresters. By Alexander Wilson, 

Forresters. By John Wilson, 161. 
Fountain Gardens, formerly Hope 

Temple, 214. 
Frankfort, America, 48. 
Fraser, John, 258. 55- 

Fraser, John, poet ; memoir, 4 
Fraser, J. Roy, gi. 
Free Library and Museum, Lecture 

Hall of, 472. 
Free Church School, Stevenson 

Street. ^Si. 
P'rench prisoners at Perth. 1 14, 
Friciidship'.s Offering, Lyrics in. 

By T. K. Hervey. 331. 
Fulton, Mr., Glenhelil, 89. 
Fallon, Roliert, merchant. Paisley, 

Fyfe, Archibald, poet ; memoir. 

Gaierlunsit Periodical, 139, 349, 

Cabcrlundt, Tki, 358. 
Gallant Bark, Away my, 417- 
Galloway, Isalxlla {Mrs. James 

Fleming], 406. 
Carnal Church, 207. 
Cai^tt, Paisley and Rtnfreaskire, 

GeilJes, Rev. John, 3a 
Gemmell, £!<^ on Jamie, 419. 
Gentle Corps, 150. 
George III., King, 150. 
Ueorge IV., Coronation of. By 

Rev. W. M. Wade, 207. 
Gibb, Peier, poet ; memoir, 347. 
Gibson. Alex., Town-Clerk, 236. 
Gibson, Mr., Town-Clerk, 11, 62 
GilTen ijchool, Bcith, 217. 
Gilmour, Alex. , poet ; memoir, 20< 
Gilmour.Alex., Sqngtolhememoiy 

of Robert Nimmo, 210. 
Gilmour, Alex., To the mcmoiy of 

Tannahill, 209. 
Gilmour, David, poet ; 




■, VVilllai 


W. Alexander, 

Glen Street, Paisley, 340. 
Gloaming, The. A poem by W. 

Living:iton, (12. 
Gloomy Winter's Noo Awa'. 

Song by Tamiahill, 92. 
Golden Lion Inn, I'alsley, 379. 
Goldie, James, poet ; memoir, 145. 
Goldie, John, poet ; memoir, 311, 

Goldsmilh, 75, 

Gordon, Mrs., daughter of Profes- 
sor Wilson at Centenary in Pais- 
ley of Sir Walter Scott, 171. 
Gordon's Loan, 423. 
Gordon's, Mrs., death, 171. 
Graham, Mr., 349. 
Graham, Rev. James, 161. 
Graham slon, 470. 
Grammar School, Paisley, II, 43, 
62, 401, 460, 471, 269, 299, 307. 
Grave, Thoughts on a. Ay Alex. 

Colquhoun, 353. 
Gray's Ferry, 45. 48. 
Great, Good, and Just, Where is our 
Cast. By J. M'Alpie, 

e me. Give me the Minh, the 

Glee. By James Yool, 261. 
Gla^row, 315, 335. 
Glas^TUi AdtierHsa; 44. 
Glasgow Colleges. By W 

M 'Oscar, 397. 
Gla^ow Corporation, 69, 
Clasgme Courier, 30a 
Glasgow, Earl of, 150, 247. 
dasgffii) Theatrical Review, 395. 1 
Glasgow University, 30, 62, 160, . Half-way House, Glasgow roail, 

iSf, 270, 291, 307, 402, 434,1 ■-- 

Hamilton Street, Paisley, 

Greenock, 343, 385. 

Greenock iHtelligcneer, J49. 

Greenshields, John, advocate, 315. 

Guernsey, J43. 

Gun used by Alex. Wilson, 56. 

Guthrie, Rev. Ur., 293. 

Glasbfurd, William, poet ; memoir, 

Glendaniel, 39S. 
Glentield Lea. By John Fraser, 

Glenifler, Braes of. Song by 

Tannahill, 91. 
Glcniffer Hills, 89. 
GlenitTer's Sunny Braes, Upon. 

By Robert Stewart, 389. 

llammils, al Secdhills, 43. 
Hamilton, Coatbridge, To 

I)y Alex. Brown, 342. 
llamillon, Rev. James, 30. 


Ilardyknule, 217, 
Harp of Caledonia, 259. 
Harp of KenfrewskiTc, 27, 88, 258, 
269, 399. 307. 



Harmt Ifotne. By MaUbew 

Smith, 249. 
Harvey, Jolian, 364. 
IlawtharTMien, 455. 
Ilazlewood, Jun., John, 598. 
liealth and Diiiea^^. By Robert 

Hendry, 255. 
Heath and Harebells Lines on 

Group oC By T. K- Hervey, 

Hector, William, Shcriffaerk ; 

memoir, 11. 
Hector*», William, Authorship, 11, 

Henderson, Andrew; memoir, 300. 

Henderson, Duncan, poet ; memoir, 

Henderson, Robert, Paisley, 300, 


Henderson, Thomas, 500. 
Hendry, Robert, {xjci ; memoir, 

Hcnning, John. 164. 

Henning, John ; memoir, 167. 

Hepburn & Watt, Paisley, 301. 

Her Kiss was Soft. By James 

Yool, 263. 

Her Majesty's Answer to the Scots 

Young Women's Address. By J. 

M*AIpic, 9. 

Hervey, 'Hiomas Kibble, poet ; 

memoir, 331. 

High Church, 38. 

High Church Bell, 284. 

High Church Bell. Case before 

the Justices of the Peace, 127. 

High (-hurch Burying-ground, 411. 

Highlandman, The. By Thomas 

Kirkland, 236. 

Highlands, On Leaving the, 400. ' 

High Street, 347. I 

Holiday, The. By C. Marshall, 1 


Holmes, Isabel, 15S. 

Homely Words and Songs, for 

working men and women. By 

C. Marshall, 294. 

Honduras, 430. 

Ho|)e and Contentment. By E. 

Picken, 66. 

Hope Temple, 223. 224. 

Hope Temple, a poem, by Andicv 

Aird, 225. 
Hope Temple Gardens. Poem by 

T. Crichtoo, 39. 
Hope, To. Poem by Scadlock, 

i 98. 

• Hopetoun, Earl of, 30a 

j House of Recovery, 72. 

Houston, 398. 
I Howl on, ye Wild Winds. Song 
I by William M*Laren, 81. 
' Human Life, a poem by George 
I Macindoe, 7a 
j Hume, Joseph, M.P., 230. 
< Humming Bees, The. By William 
I M*Nicol, 369. 

Hundred Years, A. By W. 
M*Naughton, 441. 
I Hunter, Dr., Grammar School, 
j Paisley, 395. 

I Ilurlet Wood. By Charles 

[ Fleming, 407. 

Hurst & Chance, 327. 

I am obliged against my will. By 

James M*Alpie, 9. 
rU awa' hame to my mither, 

J will. By Thomas Dick, 

I'm Ower Auld. By John Lorimer, 

Instade of rendering thanks to God. 

hy James M'Alpie, 9. 
Introduction against Popery. By 

James M*Alpie, 9. 
Ireland, 48, 343. 
Irish Minstrel. By R. A. Smith, 

Isabella, or The Robbers ; a 

poetical tale, 79. 
I Saw Her. By John Lorimer, 

Isle of Palms. By John Wilson, 

Isle of Palms. By Professor 

Wilson, 43. 
Israelites' Passage through the 
Red Sea. By Alex. Colquhoun, 



1, 74- 

1, Rev. Dr., 68. 
Jamieson's, Mall Ghosl. By W. 

C. Cameron, 436. 
Janltne, Professor, Glasgow Uni- 

Clark, 4S4. 
Jeannie, when you and I. By D. 
Picken, 413. 

Jessie, ihe Flower o' Dunblane. 
Song by TonnahiU, 94, 95. 

Johnnie, Soutar, 43. 
ohnslon, Harry, of Paisley Theatre, 

Keith, Miss (wife ofjan 


Kerr, Bernard, 16. 
Kerr. Dr. James, ^^. 
Kerr, Robert, 433. 
Kyle, Samuel, Life of, by Thomas 

Sprcul, 354- 
Kilbarchan, 194, 251, 395, 396. 
Kilbarchan, Piper of, 217. 
Kilbride, East, 150. 
Killeara, Free Church School, 482. 
Killcan, The Vale of. By Alex. 

Carlile, 192. 
Killoch Bum, 99. 
Killoch Burn. Song, 99. 
Kill.Kh Glen, 99, 100. 
Kilmalcolm, 224, 423, 424. 
Kilwinning, 369. 
Kincardine, 115,401. 

3EX. 497 

< Kincardineshire, Mr. Bell, Sheriff 

I King George 11., 12. 

' King, James, poet ; memoir, 72, 

t 114, 116,407. 

I King James V., or the Gipsy's Re- 

I venge. By John Fraser, 456. 

King James VII., 12, 72, Z29. 

King, John, poet; memoir, 134, 

Kitig, Mr., of Lonend, 346. 

King, Robert, poel ; memoir, 481. 

Kingsessing, U.S., America, 4S. 

King's Proclamation, 423. 

King Street, Glasgow, 69. 

Kinnoul, Earl of, Duplin, 30a 

Kirkintilloch, 315. 

Kirk land, Robert, 23;. 

Kiikland, Thomas, poet ; memoir. 

Kirk Ion stream, 99. 

KissingTrec and Kissing Well, 100. 

Knapdale, South, 15. 

I^dy Lane, Fire in. By Peter 

Gibb, 347. 
I.^y Marjory. By Mrs. Maxwell, 

. '!"■■ 

Ladies Guide to Epistolary Cor- 
respondence. By Mrs. Maxwell, 

. 35^- , 

Laird of Logan, 301. 

Lake, The, is at rest. Poelry by 

J. King, 117. 
Ijimb. J. J., 30, 79- 
Land beyond the Grave. By John 

Black, 437. 
Lang, Robert Burns Club, 156. 
Largs Beach. By R. King, 487. 
Lark, The. By James Patrick, 

Lassie, A, lives by yonder bum, 

378. wi' (he gowden hair, The. 

By R. Millar, Jun., 443. 
Lass of Arranteenie. Song by 

Tannahill, 93. 
Lauder. Sir Thomas Dick, 159. 
"Laurel disputed" published, 45, 


498 INE 

Lawn Street, 418. 

I^v of Arbitration, 40Z. 

Lays of l-eiaure Hours. Ilf Robert 

Skimming, 476. 
L.C.A. celebrated birth of 

Burns, 377. 
L.C.A. eelebraled hirlh of 

TannahiH, 377. 
L.C.A. members who wrote 

poetical pieces, 377. 
LC.A, Numberof members who 

attended meeting, 376. 
L.C.A. Proceedings of this Club 
15 taken from their minute-book, 

By W. 



L.C.A., The. By Tame 

hill, 374- 
Leiper, Andrew, poet ; 

Lennie, William, 299, 301. 
Letters from the Dead to the Living. 

By Mrs. Maxwell, 357. 
Levem River, Lavem, Laveran, 

or Lavemani, 99. 
Library of John Dunn sold, 323. 
Libra™, Poem of the. By T. 

Crichton, 38. 
Libran', Trades', 407. 
LichI Irae the Smiddy of Saunders 

IluiiBTiddie. liy Rev. Charles 

Marshall, 294. 
Life's like the Dew. A Song by 

James King, 118. 
Ught and Hope for me. B; 

Stewart, 289. 
Lights and Shadows. By John 

. 161. 

Lindsay, Trials of Margaret. By 

John Wilson, 161. 
Literary and Convivial Association 

(L.C.A.), 134, 139, 257, 258, 

279. 374- 
Livingsttm, \\ illiam, poet ; memoir, 

Locher Drig Ghost. By W. 

M 'Oscar, 396. 
I.ochwinnoch, 84. 
I.ochwinnoch, 44, 354. 
Lochwinnoch Loch, 395. 
Logan, James, 370. 

Logan Water, 2 1 8, Z19. 
Lomond Braes, The. 
Chalmers, 142, 

Lonewells, 42. 

London, 14, 395, 415. 

Loudon, 370, 414 

London Scotsman, 311, 

Ixing Lone, 223. 

Long Yellow Hair. By W. Cross, 

Lorimer, Alei., 460, 

Loud Roared the Tempest. By 

J. «.. 363- 
Louisville, 49. 
Love, Delights o'. Song by W. 

Chalmers, r45. 
Love, John, 38, 223, 224, 
Love, Ode 10. By Dr. Thomas 

Richmond. 72. 
Love, My, dost thou speak sincere. 

Song by W. M'Laren, 80. 
Love not too fondly. By W. 

Alexander, 388. 
Love Street, formerly called Long 

I^velhcLand, I. By W. Kennedy, 

Low Church, 38. 

Luglon, Inn, The bonny lass of. 

By K. Clark, 451. 
Lum,sden, James, 369. 
Lunatic Asylum, Glasgow Royal, 

Lyie, Thomas, poet ; memoir, 269. 

Macdowal, William, of Garthland, 

Macindoe, George, poet ; memoir, 

MacNaugbtan, Rev. John. Poem 

by John Paterson, 127. 
Mains, Miss, of the Mains, 4S3. 
Manchester, 331. 
Marshall, Rev. Charles, 79. 
Marshall, Kev. Charles, 3:1. 

Marshall. Rev. Charles, poet ; 

memoir, 291. 
Marstioll, Kev. Charles, at hi) 

funeral, 293. 
Manin, Francis, 315. 
Manjr of Liberty. By Sheriff 

John Bell, 40Z. 
Martyrs' Church BuryinE^[round, 

Mary. By A. Leiper, 366. 
Mosson, George, II. 
Mathematical Exercises. By 

Thomas Spreul, 354. 
Maxwell, Anna Maria, poetess ; 

memoir, 357. 
Maxwell, Captain, Brediland, 357. 
Maxwell, James, poet; memoir, 

14, 2S, 26. 
Maxwell, James, recipient of a 

charity, 16. 
Maxwell, Mr., of Castlehead, 15. 
Maxwell, Sir John, 315, 
Maxwell's, James, Poems, 14, "S. 

17, 18, I9-2J, 34. 
Maxwells of Brediland, 357. 
Maxweltown, 423. 
Maxwelton Bum, 438. 
Maxwelton School, 15, 3S4. 
Maiwelton Village, 15. 
May, Poem 00. By Fyfe, 75. 
Meal Market, Paisley, 194. 
Meams manse, 159. 
Merksworth Cottage, 35S, 
Merksworth House, 365. 
Aft sted some lines dropt Irom 

a phanatick pen. By James 

M'Alpie, 9. 
Middle Church, 38. 
Militia, Fifeshire, 59. 
Militia, Lanarkshire, 84. 
Militia, Renfrew, 1 14. 
Millar, John Eddon, Paislty Rf- 

posilory, 11. 
Millar, John, editor of Paisley Re- 

poiilory, 229. 
Millar, John, poet ; memoir, Z17. 
Millar, Jun., R., poet; memoir, 


Minstrelsy, Ancient and Modem. 

By Motherwell, 300. 
Miseellany, Paiiiey Literary, 259, 

Mitchell, John, Beamy, by, 178. 
Mitchell, John, Oh, waft me to the 

Faiiy Clime, by, 179. 
Mitchell, John, poet; memoir, 176, 

Mitchell, John, Poverty, by, iSa 
Mitchell, John, The Sloup's SliU 

Fu', by, 179. 
Mitchell, John, Wallace's Tree, by, 

Mitchell, John, Works by, 176,371, 
Mitchell, J. S., 364,456. 
Montgomerie, Elliot (Mrs. John 
Bell), 402. 

onumeni in Paisley to Alexander 
Wilson, 57. 
Moore, Dugald, 414. 
Moral and Literary Observer, 394, 

lorrison, Jeanie. By W. Mother- 
well, 299, 302, 
Morrison, Miss Jane (Jeanie 

Morrison), 30Z. 
Morton, John ; memoir, 88. 
Mosquito Icrritor^', 430. 
Mossman, John, 57. 
Moss Row, 369. 
Mother, In memory trf my. By 

Charles Fleming, 409. 
Motherwell, John, 299. 
Motherwell, Renfrewdiire Charac- 
ters, 137. 
Motherwell's Grave. Lines by W. 

Kennedy, 327, 329. 
Motherwell, William, poet ; 

memoir, 299. 
Motherwell, William, 9, 10, 12, 
13, 16, 22, 23, 27, 36, 301, 315, 
316, 322, 327, 402. 
Mountains, On. By W. Finlay, 

Mournful sonnet by a lover to his 
mistress. Ity James M'Alpie, 9. 
Muir, Dean; memoir, 315. 
Muir, Dr. James, poet; memoir. 

Mnir, Dr. Ode lo Aimifailation, ; 
104. i 

Muir, Mis., died at her felher's' 
house. Canal Bank, Paisley, 104. 

Murdoch, John, 302. j 

Murdoch, Mrs. (Jeanie Morrison), 

Murdoch, William, 2$g, 236, 407, 

Murphy, John ; memoir, 4S1. ! 

Murray & Stewart, 414. 

Murray, Provost, 58, 89, 274. 

Musit By A. Leiper, 365. | 

My Brothers are the Stately Trees, [ 

191. ; 

My Cuttj Pipe. By A- Leiper, ' 

. 3^ I 

My Home. A poem by Ehinean 

Henderson 1 23. 
Mylne, Professor, 3a 

M'Alpie, Ji 

M'Nicol, William, poet ; 

M'Oscar, William, poet ; 


.e'll meeL By Dr. 

ByJ. B., 362. 
Napoleons Soliloquy after the 

Battle of Waterloo. liy Alex. 

Colquhoun, 351. 
Natal Sonnet for 1855. By W. 

Anderson, 277. 
Nathan M'Fec. Song by J, 

Palerson, loS. 
Native Vale. Mj. By T. Dick, 
, 439- 

M 'Asian and Muir, 434. 

M 'Asian, Kailie, 434. 

M 'Asian, Koberl, poet; memoir, 

434. 43S. 
M'Dowal, Sheriff, 423. 
M'Gavin, William, Memoir of, 

M'Gavin, William, saw Alexander 

Wilson bum his satire on 1 

head or Tolbooth, 46. 
M'Gilvray, Alex., poet; mer 

M'Gregor, John, poet; mcr 

M'Gregor, Sir George, 430. 
M'Inlyre, J., 259. 
M'Inlyre, John, poet; men 

M', J., 259,449. 
M'l.nrcn, William, poet ; mcmoii 

78, 80, 87, 98- 
M'Lcnc, Catherine Jardine, 423. 
M'Lerie, David, 423, 
M'Letchie, Rev. L)r., 159, 162. 


Ncilsons, printers, memoirs, 265. 
Ncitston, 99, 194, 315. 
Nclwin, Ode 10 memory of Lord. 

By T. Criehton, 38. 
Nelson's Victory, Lord. By Dr. 

Richmond, 72. 
Ncthercommon Printworks, 434. 
Nelhercraigs Bieach field, 2G5, 
Ncwcaitle, America, 48. 
New Jersey, 48. 
New Orleans, 49. 

taisUy Reposil-iry, 72,'276. 


1. 370- 

Ncw-Year's Day. By E. Picken, 

New Year's Gift. By W. Glass. 

New Zealand, 427. 

New Zealand, Auckland, 434. 

Ntigara, Falls of, 54. 

Nicol, Mary, wife of R. A. Smith, 


immo, l-sabella. Lines lo Alex. 

Gitmimr by. 215. 

inimo, Isabella, [loeless ; memoir. 

North, Christopher. 161. 

Oah, Ode to Che. By Archibald 

Fyfe. 7&- 
Ochil liills, 340. 
Ochiltree, Edie, J79- 
Ohio, 49. 
Onlhc Elders. ByJaroesM'Alpie, 

Oralorio in ihe Abbey, First, 150. 

Ord, George, 45, $□. 

Orr, Charles, wriling-masler. Pais- 
ley, MS. of letter of, 56. 

Orr, John, 164, 

Ostend, 370. 

Olago goes a-head, my boys. By 
Juhn Uarrs 4:8. 

Otago, There's rae place like. By 
John Barr, 428. 

Owen and Eli/a. A legend by W. 
Stewart, 280. 

Oxford, Magdalene College, 160. 

O yes, O yes, O yes, consider 
well. By James M-Alpic, 9. 

Paisley, Address to Electors of. 
By John M'Cregor, 253. 

Paistry Adi-trtiscr, 26, 37, 300,311, 

Paisley, Carlile s Sketches of, 230. 

Paisley described by James Max- 
well. 23. 

I-aislcy, History of. By Rolierl 
Brown, 3a 

Paisley Lads. By Aleiander Tait, 

Paisley Literary Miscellany, 259, 

Paisley Literary Society, 38. 

Paisify Magaxnu, 14, 22, 41, 322, 

349. 350- 
Piiislty Magniine, edited by 

Motherwell, 308. 
Paisley Manufacturers. By D. 

Glhnour, 424. 

Paisley Musical Association, 460. 
Paisley, Rambles through. By 

Alexander Tait, 203. 
Paisley Jie/osihry, 72, ai7, 226, 
. Paisley Weavers in other days. 
I By D. GitiDour, 424. 
Pajiegyric on the Town of Paisley, 

Parkh'itl, John; memDir, 198. 
ParkhitI, John, relating to John 
Wilson, 27. 

I'aierson, James, poet; memoir, 

Palcrsor, John, poet; memoir, 127, 
J'aton, Sir Noel, 414. 
I'atrick, James, poet ; memoir, 

Patrick, Rev. William, Hamilton, 

Peacock, Mrs., 47a 
Peacock, Town Officer, 29. 
Peat Stealing. Song by John 

Wilson, 28. 
Peddie, James, 159, 164. 
Heddie, James, Jubilee Dinner to, 

Pcilen, Elegy on John, 210. 
Peebles, 6g. 
Peep from my window. By Alex. 

Colijuhoun. 349. 
Pen I'olfc, Reminiscences of Ihe. 

By D. Gilmour, 424. 
Pennsylvania, 48. 
Pennycreek, 48. 
Penny Smsster, 476. 
Perth, 97, 114. 
Petrel steamer, 427. 
Philadelphia, 48, 49, 56. 
Philosophical Institution, 279. 
Philosophy, Chair of Moral, 161. 
Picken, Andrew Belfrage, poet; 

memoir, 430. 

503 INI 

Picken, David, 286. 

Picken, David, 407. 

Piclfen, David, poet; memoir, 411. 

Picken. E., Ai«. Wilson, &c., 

compelilive poems for a prize, 

FickcD, Ebeneicr, poet ; memoir, 

Picken, K., publisties his poetry, 

Picken, E. Specimens of his 

poems, 63, 64. 
Picken, E., wrote a Dictionary of 

Scottish Dialect, 6S. 
Pioneer si earner, 427. 
Pipe, My Cutty. By A. Leiper, 

Pirates, The, Serenade. By W, 

Kennedy, 331. 
Pleasant Days in May. By W. 

M'Nicol, 373. 
Plunkin, Orchard Street, 136, 285, 

Poems and Songs. By George 

Maoindoe, 69. 
Poems and Songs, Saliricil and 

Descriptive. By Alexander 

M'Gilvray. 335. 
Poems by James Maxwell, Li^t of, 

Poems on engaging subjects. By 

W. Glassford, 41. 
Poetical Chimes ; or. Leisure Lays 

ByJohnFra-ser, 455. 
Poetical Skctch-botik, Publications 

in. KyT. K. Ileney, 331. 
Police Board, 418. 
Politeness, Manual of. liy \V, 

Hector, II. 
Pollock, Alex. Russell; memoir, 

Pollock, Archibald, maniiger of 

Paisley Theatre, lia. 
Pollock House, 14. 
Pollock, Kev. Alexander, of South 

Church, 146, 
Pollock, Sermon by. Byllic Rev. 

Alexander liro^n, 340. 
Pollokshawa U.P. Congregation, 

History of, 11. 

Poll Tai, 158. 

Pool, Mr., 460. 

Pope, Ihe poet, 75. 

Ponpatrick, 48. 

Portrait of George Caldwell, 369. 

Poyais, 430. 

Prison Song. By Gavin Dalziel, 

Proudly neighed the gallant steed. 

By \V. Alexander, 386. 
Proverbs, Scottish. By Andrew 

Henderson, 301. 
Purdie, Mr., 269. 

Queensferry, 44. 
Queen Street, 89. 
Questions discu^ed at L. C. A- , 375. 

Rab and his Friends, 424. 
Racecourse, 370. 
Raeburn, Sir Ilcnry, 167. 
Ragged School Baiaar. By James 

Yool, 162. 
Ramsay, AI Ian , or Robert Feiguson. 

Debate in Edinburgh — Which 

did mast honour to Scottish 

Poetry? 44. 
Ramsay, James A., 315. 
Ram.say, P. A., poet; memoir, 315. 
Random Rhymes. By Robert 

Clark, 453. 
Ranfuriy Castle, 231. 
Reading, Berkshire, 15a 
ReadingsatmcetingofL.C.A., 375. 
Recitation. By W. M'Nicol, 372. 
Records, Judicial, of Renfrewshire, 

Recs's Cyclopiedia, 49. 

Reid, John, A Mother's Thoughts 

V- '75- 
Reid, John, poet; memoir, 175. 
Relics of Alexander Wilson given 

Remember Thee. By John Dunn, 


Reminiscences of the Pen Folk. 

By D. Gilmour,424. 
Rcnfreiv, 414. 
Renfren- Militia, 1 14. 
Kenfren-sliirt AttUHal, 357. 

Renfrewshire Characters. B^ 

Motherwell, 300, 
Rmfrnoshiri Cktonide, 258. 
RmfTtaakiri Indipaidait, 360. 
Renfrewshire Tonline Inn, 273. 
Renfrewshire, Views in. By 1'. A. 

Ramsay, 316. 
Rennison, John, 392. 
RennisoB, Kev. Alexander, poel; 

memoir, 392. 
Repoiitory, New Faulty, 72, 276. 
Reproof and Advice to Uie Scots. 

By James M'Alpie, 10. 
Republic, Rise and Progress of, of 

Texas. Hy W. Kennedy, 327. 
Reston, Rev. David. By Petei 

Thomson, 447. 
Rhyming Baker. By Alexander 

M'GUvtay, 335. 
Rhyinin' Rab o' our Tottn, 453. 
Riccartsbar, 15. 
Richelieu, Diamalic Piece. By 

P. A. Ramsay, 316, 317. 
Richmond & Son, Thomas, 471. 
Richmond, Daniel, M.D., poet: 

memoir, 471,472. 
Richmond, Dr. Thomas, poet; 

memoir, 72, 2ig, 229, 471. 
Rifle Corps, Chivalric Adventures, 
apoein. ByJainesPalersOQ, io8. 
Right Reverend Sir, ye are to 

blame. By James M'Alpie, 9. 
Risley, 392, 
Ritchie, Leitch, 327. 
Ritchie, Mrs., 385. 
Riven Roor-Tree. By D. Gilmour, 

Robertson, John, poet; memoir, 59. 
Robertson, John, poet; specimens 

of his writing, 60, 61. 
Robinson Crusoe, 167. 
Rodman, Dr. John, 72. 
Rogers, Rev. Dr., 115, 266, 302, 

Roman Camp, 15. 
Ropetie Close (Little Hell), 16. 
Rorrison, David, poet; memoir, 2E4. 
Rose, The. ByMrs. Maiwcll, 358. 
Rosiin, 455. 
Rothesay, 476. 

Sabbath Morning Reflections. By 

D. Pickcn, 412. 
Sandyford, 371. 
Saracen's Head Inn, A Theatre in, 

Saracen's Head Inn, Ii, 167, 316, 

335. 346- 
Saucel Hill la be Parnassus, J. King 

thought, 114. 
Scadlock, 83. 

Scadiock, poet ; memoir, 96. 
Scadloclt. Song, Hark, hark, the 


Scoti Magaaiu, 37. 

Scottish Militia Regiments, 59, 

Scottish Minstrel. By R. A. 
Smith, 151, 359. 

Scottish Music, Qa hearing. By 
Alex. Carlile, 190. 

Scottish Proverbs. By Andrew 
Hendeison, 301. 

Scolt, Sir Walter, 161. 

Scotl, Sir Walter, Ashiestiel, 324. 

Scott, Sir Waller. Centenary cele- 
brated in Paisley, 171. 

Scripture Gleamngs. By W, 

Seedhiils, 44. 

Select Melodies. By R. A. Smith, 

Semple, David, author of Lift of 

Tannahill, 91, 97, 291. 
Semple, David, on W. Glassford, 

Sergeant M 'Craw's Song. By 

J. R. Adam, 345. 
Seville, Royal Palace, 236. 
Shanter, Tarn o', 43, 
Shark or Lang Mills detected. By 

Alex. Wilson, 46. 
Sharp, Thomas, 164. 
Shed, William, tenant of Town's 

House, 241. 

504 !>'[' 

SherifT-CIerk's Office, Paisley, 299. ■ 

Shoulher to Shmither ; or, the 

Oties in the Crimea. By John 

Silent Love. By A. Patk, 414, I 

Sim, Dr. John, 258, 269. I 

Sim, Dr. John, poet; memoir, 307, , 

384. I 

Sim, Hogh, 307. 
Sim, James, 384. 
Sim, Mary, 384. 
Simson and Lovie, By Ji 

M'Alpie, 9. 
Sketch of Alex. M'Gilvray, by 

himself, 335- 
Skimming, Robert, poel ; memoir, 

Smith, Alex., 2S6. 
Smith, Matthew, poel ; memoir, 

Smith, R. A,, 87, 97, 98, 269, 316. 
Smith, R. A., poet ; memoir, 150. 
Smith, Kolierl, bookseller, 17. 
Snoilgrass, Hugh, 315. 
Snodgrass, Rev. Dr., 38. 
Soulier, On the good. By W. 

GInssford, 41. 
Soldier's Death, A. By John 

Lorimer, 466. 
Solitude. By Rev. Alex. Rennison, 

Songs, Angling, 324- 

Song, That, again. By T. K. 

Ilervey, 334- 
Spcirs, Captain, 11 
Speiis, M.P., Archd. Ale Caup 

of Wallace's Oak presented ic 

Bums Club, 156. 
Spire for St. George's Church, 

money collected, 273. 
Sports of Winter, liy T. Crich- 


, Thomas, poel ; 

the. By Rev. Dr. Boog, 31. 

Slatne to TannahiU, 90. 

Steed > A Steed 1 A. By Mother- 
well, 305. 

Stevenson, D.W., sculptor, Tanoa- 
hill Monument, 90. 

Stevenson, John, Epislle to John 
Holdenby, 112. 

Stevenson, John, poet j memi»r, 

Slewart, Allan, 407. 

Stewart, Allan, Sun Tavern, 78. 

Slewarton, 476. 

Stewart, Robert, poel ; memoir, 

Slewart, Sir M. Shaw, 11. 
Slewart, William, archilecl, 26a 
Stewart, William, poel ; memoir, 

Slewart, William, 97, 258. 
Sle«-art, William, W. Cobbcll the 

gueal of, 122. 

St. Anthony's Chapel, 455. 

SI. Georges Church, tdinburgh, 

R. A. Smith, 151. 
Si. George's Church, Paisley, 


Si. Mirin Lodge, 43. 
Si. Mirin Street, 369. 
Stonebyres Falls, 100. 
Stranger's Death. ByJohnGoldic, 

Stream, The, that murmurs. Bj 

T. Dick, 438. 
Sun Tavern, 78. 
.Sulherland, Superintendent, 89. 
Sweet's the Dew. By J. Goldic, 


Tablet at Seedhills to Alex. Wilson. 

By David Anderson, 43. 
Tarn o' Shanter, Soutar Johnnie, 

and Watly and M^, statuary. 

By David Anderson, 43. 
Tannahill and K. A. Smith blimate 

acquaintances, 151. 

Tannahllt. Death of. A poem by , Town's House on the Market Day. 

Alex. Ikn-land, 84. I By Alex. M'Gilvray, 335. 

Tannahill. Matthew, 406. Trades' Ubrajy, 407. 

" innahill, Robert, 60, ^^, 78, 83, ! Trafalgar, Victory of Lord Nelson 

84, 229, 301. 

Tannahill. Rnliert, c 

47. 476- 

Tannahill, Rol)cr«. n 

86. I 

Tannahill. Rohert. statue, 9a 
Tar>nahill'^tlulL', 88. 
Tail, Alei., poet ; memoir, I98. 
Tail, Alex., his voL of poelry very 

Tail, Alex., ill will lo Bums 200. 

Tail, Alex . Xen- ^'ear, by, 200. 

Tail, Alex., I'ai^ley Ijids, by, 200 

Taylor, J., jirinter, Tai^-lcy, 230. 

Taylor, VVillinin, jioei ; memoir, 

Tea, a song. Ily l(o»-slii!l, 131. 

Teachings of Winter Dav, 411. 

Tear, A. By R. A. Sm'ilh, 151. 

Teaspate, The. By John Lorinier, 

Tempeonce Garland. ByT. Diet:, 

Tenipcrance Movemcnl, 4t8. 

Templar Hall, Good, 472. 

Texas, Galveston at, 327. 

They tell me tae gang aliroad, Ily 
John t'ra.ser, 457. 

Thomson, David, 470. 

Thomson, Rev. Peter, poet ; me. 
moir, 443. 

Titkh-r, Editor of the, 233. 

7>W'/rt-p„blication. 396. 

Time. By Rev. I'eler Thomson, 

Tolbooth, Stairhead, 45. 

Tontine Inn, 315. 

Toom Meal Pock. Ityjohn Robert- 
son, 61. 

Total Abstinence, 41& 

Tower, Teetotal, Sandyford, Ren- 
frew Road, 371. 

Town Council of Paislcv. 37, 58, 

Otle by T, Crichton, ; 
I Trapper's Return, 55. 

Trees, The Old. By W. M'Laren, 
,■- 83. 
I Trinidad, 307. 
Trinity Collejje, Cambridge, 331. 
Tweed. River, 323. 

Veritas. By A. Pari;, 414- 
VLsion of Mankinil. By A. Park, 

Viiitor, publication, Greenock, 299. 
Volunteer, Pnislcy, 72. 
Volunteers' Song. By K. King, 4S6. 

Wade, Rev. W. M., poet; memoir, 

Wallace's Oak, Ale Caup of, pre- 
sented to Bums Club, by Arclul. 

Spcirs, M.P., 156. 
Wallace, Sit WUliam. 

King, 482. 
Wallace, Sir William, 

Brunlon, 368, 
Wallace's Tree, 407. 
Wallace's Vow. By John Fraser, 

Walton Stream, 99. 
Wandering Muse. By Gcot^ 

Macindoe, 69. 
Warily, Steadily. By Dr. Sim, 308. 

By R. 
By Dr. 



. The. By R. 

Millar, jun., 443. 
Watchman's Round in the Way of 

Life and the Way of Death. ' Ily 

Rev. Charles Marshall, 294. 
Water, Ix^n, 218. 
Waterloo, Field of, 370. 
Watson's Institution, Edinbur^, 

John, 291. 
Watt, Dr.. nod Dr. Mnir. partners 

in bu<^ness in Paisley, 102. 
Walt, Dr., memoir, loa. 



Watt, J., Death of Tannahill, by, 


Watt, J., poet; memoir, 211. 
Watty and Meg. By Alexander 

Wilson, 43, 46, 51. 
Watty's Ditty. By R. Skimming, 

Waves, with joy, are dancing, The. 

By W. Alexander, 387. 
Weather, Observations on the. 

By W. Chalmers, 142. 
Weavers* Companion. By John 

Murphy, 481. 
Weavers^ Magazitify 37, 67. 
Weavers, Paisley, of other days. 

By D. Gilmour, 424. 
Weavers* Union, 259. 
Webster, David, National Song, 

by, 183. 
Webster, David, Ode to the memory 

of Tannahill, by, 183. 
Webster, David, Paisley Fair, by, 

Webster, David, poet ; memoir, 

181, 407. 
Webster, David, Tak' it, man, 

tak' it, by, 181. 
Webster, David, The Minstrel, by, 

Wee Burn, 99. 

Weigh House, High Street, 223. 
Welford, Memoirs of. By Robert 

Hendry, 255. 
Wellmeadow Street, 347. 
Were you but mine. By John 

Carswell, 377. 
West Indies, 307. 
West march, 370. 
West Relief Church-yard, 88. 
Wha's at the Window. By Alex. 

Carlile, 189. 
What means this I'rc.sbylerian rage. 

By James M'Alpie, 9. 
Whirlpool of Corrivreckan. By 

fames Patrick, 401. , 
Whistle Binkie, 438. 
Whitchill, James, poet; memoir, 

Whitelaw, Alex., Book oj Scottish 
SoM^f by, 218, 219. 

Whoe'er ye are that wrote the 

letter. I5y James M'Alpie, 9. 
VVhyte, Dr. John, 72. 
Williamson, Rev. Mr. , 392. 
Willie wi' his wig a-jee. By W. 

Chalmers, 144. 
Wilson, Alexander, edits Recs*s 

Cyclopaxiia, 49. 
Wilson, Alexander, Extracts from 

his works by, 51. 
Wilson, Alexander, his death and 

monument, 49, 72. 
Wilson, Alexander, his notes on 

copy of his work, 45. 
Wilson, Alex., his work completed 

by Oeorge Onl, 50. 
Wilson, Alex., how he employed 

himself in America, 48. 
Wilson, Alexander, memoir. By 

T. Crichlon, 37. 
Wilson, Alexander, Monument 

erected in Paisley to his memory, 

57» 58. 
Wilson, Alexander, Monument 

visited by author of this work and 

two of his daughters in 1877, 51. 
, Wilson, Alexander, poet, 37 ; 

memoir, 43, 64, 229. 
Wilson, Alexander, published first 

volume of poems in 1 790, 44; 

second edition, 45. 
Wilson, Alexander, publishes his 

American Ornithology, 49. 
Wilson, Alexander, punished by 

Sheriff for writing a satire, 46. 
Wilson, Alexander, Relics of, se- 
cured by author of this work in 

Philadelphia, 56. 
; Wilson, Alexander, second edition 

of work not successful, 46. 
Wilson, Alexander, Visit to Bums 

in Ayrshire by, 46. 
Wilson, Alex. , went to America, 47. 
Wilson Hall, 15S. 
W^ilson, James, Books published 

i>y> 159. 

Wilson, James, naturalist; memoir, 

Wilson, James, Voyage round the 

Isles of Scotland by, 159. 

Wilson, John, aulhor of Birthiiay 

Ode, &c., 216. 
Wilson, John, bar-officer in Sheriff 

Court, poel; memoir, 27. 
Wilson, John (Christopher North), 

poet; memoir, 158. 
Wilson, John, poel, 72. 
Wilson, John, poet ; memoir, 226. 
Wilson, John, Song of "The Peat 

Stealing" by, 27, iS. 
Wilson Lodge of Oddfellows, 43. 
Wilson, Mrs., mother of Professor 

Wilson, 159. 
Wilson, Professor, 42, 322. 
Wilson, Professor, at dinner given 

10 John Henning, 167. 
Wilson, Professor, Bust of, 167. 
WilsoB, Professor, Death and statue 

in Edinburgh of, 170, 
Wilson, Professor, Dinnerto James 

Pcddie, 163. 
Wilson, I'rofessor, Freedom of 

Paisley conferred on, 163. 
Wilson, Professor, Honorary pen- 
sion to, 169. 
Wilson, Professor, Killoch Uien, 

Wilson, Profes.-'or, On a Ilighlam! 

Glen, by, 172. 
Wilson, Professor, Public Dinner 

10, 163. 

Wilion, Professor, The Evening 

Cloud, by, 173. 
Wilson, Professor, The Past, 

poem by, 172. 
Wilson, Professor, To a Sleeping 

Child, by, 173. 
Wilson, I'rofessor, Written 

Skiddaw during a Tempest, 174. 
Windermere Lake, 160. 

!, poem. By John 

EX. S07 

Winter Evening Conversation of 

free Kirlt Ladies. By Re». 

Charles Marshall, 294. 
Winter, Sportsof- Hy T. Crichton, 

Dedicated lo Curlers of Paisley, 

Wish, The. By Rev. Alexander 

Kennison, 391. 
Woman's Lovi 

King, 134. 
Woo<lhouselee, The Lass of, sonc. 

Byjames King, 12a 
Working Men's Institution, 

Rothesay, 476. 
Wolherspoon, Rev. John, 38. 
Wreath, ITie. By Dr. Craig, 194. 
Wren Disconsolate. By Alexander 

Wilson, 54. 
Wright, Robert, 236. 

Society of Paisley. I..ctter 
nes M'Alpic, 9. 

V'onl, Epistli: I 

Stewart, 281. 

Yool, James, ji 

, Jat 

oung Lady's Almai 

Mr,. Manwell, 357. 

oung Lady's Monitor. By Mrs. 

Maxwell, 357. 
Young, Professi 

versity, i6q. 
oung. Kcv, Mr., 407. 
oung. S.& A., printers, 
omig, Slephen, primer; 

197, 321. 
oung, the poet, 75. 

'. 3»i- 

By W. 

loir, 257, 

&c. Ey 


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